


can't take you home to mother (that's what i like about it)

by redmaynes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rough Sex, Strong Language, in which ryan and shane have unhealthy ways of coping with anything, like a lot of it lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 17:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12237819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmaynes/pseuds/redmaynes
Summary: “I still hate you, you know that?” Ryan gasped out after they finally broke for air, and he roughly shoved Shane back on the mattress to make quick work of the button of his jeans, and smirked when he heard Shane curse under his breath when he pulled down the zipper slowly, agonizingly.“The feeling’s mutual, baby,” Shane said through gritted teeth.“Don’t call me baby.”





	1. mercurial

**Author's Note:**

> just a note: this fic does depict kinda rough sex (see end notes for more details), and our two boys being verbally rough with each other, so if that might be a turnoff/trigger do proceed with caution!
> 
> inspired by the latest episode of buzzfeed unsolved (assassination of jfk), where ryan tells shane not to call him baby, and my headass comes up with this scenario
> 
> enjoy

Ryan stopped counting the times he has broken his “no sex with Shane Alexander Madej” rule. He didn’t have enough fingers for that.

“I still hate you, you know that?” Ryan gasped out after they finally broke for air, and he roughly shoved Shane back on the mattress to make quick work of the button of his jeans, and smirked when he heard Shane curse under his breath when he pulled down the zipper slowly, agonizingly.

“The feeling’s mutual, baby,” Shane said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t call me baby.”

-∆-

In hindsight it always seemed like a bad idea, but in the heat of the moment all he wanted to do was drag the stupidly tall idiot down to his level to kiss him with as much venom as he can muster, nipping at Shane’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone, while the other would fumble to get their clothes off as fast as possible, their movements angry, yet sinuous, both of them feeding off the other’s lust and impatience.

The first time they fucked it was after they stumbled into Ryan’s home after a night of drinking; slurred, aggravated talk had led to Shane pinning Ryan up against the wall, kissing him hard, hand fisted into the front of Ryan’s shirt, and they eventually found themselves in Ryan’s bed. Ryan remembered gasping for breath, with Shane’s hand at his throat, squeezing lightly, remembered screaming after he found his release, remembered whimpering with oversensitivity when Shane kept thrusting into him after, for a few seconds, until Shane finally stilled and moaned as he came.

He won’t admit the last part if Shane fucking Madej ever asked.

He woke up, sore, to an empty bed and a bitching headache, and wore a yacht jacket zipped all the way up, with the collar popped, for the whole day at work in order to hide the hickeys and the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around his throat. But he was still reminded of that night due to the deep ache that he felt through his entire body. He would press his fingers to his throat, as if he could feel Shane’s hand there, its phantom presence imprinting itself onto his skin.

They didn’t talk to each other for two weeks.

The second time they fucked it wasn’t face-to-face. Ryan was in bed at 11:04 PM, bored out of his mind, with an itch under his skin that was neglected for a while, and before he would regret it he scrolled through his contacts and sent a text.

_(11:04 PM) Ryan: come over_

He stared at his phone screen for the next three minutes, waiting for that text bubble to pop up, which it eventually did.

_(11:07 PM) Shane: Why should I_

_(11:07 PM) Ryan: because i’m thinking of how far i can fit your cock down my throat and you can either come over_

_(11:07 PM) Ryan: or i can find another dick to hop on_

_(11:08 PM) Ryan: your call big guy_

He didn’t get a reply, but the knock on his door fifteen minutes later was the only one that he needed.

“You fucking asshole,” Shane growled, pushing Ryan into the door when he finally lumbered in and closed the door behind him, crowding up in Ryan’s space. 

“You love it,” he said, smirking up at Shane, who ducked down in order to place a bruising kiss on his lips, and they necked for a few minutes like frustrated teenagers, Ryan rising up to his toes to push back at Shane, his smooth skin reddening from brushing up against Shane’s beard. He was already tugging at Shane’s shirt, but Shane stopped him, shoving at his shoulders instead.

“Why aren’t you on your knees already? Isn’t this what you wanted me to come over for?” he asked mockingly, and Ryan flipped them over, Shane’s back now flat against his front door.

“I was just giving you time to get it up, old man.”

Shane grabbed Ryan’s hand and pressed it up against the bulge in his jeans, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not all talk, no cock, baby.”

“Could’ve fooled me. And don’t call me baby.”

Shane only pushed him down, and the jarring sensation of the ground on his knees brought him back to the task. He unbuttoned and pulled down the zipper, pulling down the jeans until he was faced with Shane’s clothed erection, tenting his briefs, a wet spot already forming at the tip of his cock. He slowly pulled them down, and Shane kicked them away, moaning when Ryan pressed a kiss to the tip, and let out a choked “Fuck!” when Ryan started to swallow him down without any other preamble. 

He gagged when Shane’s hips twitched forward, and pulled off, panting as he glared at Shane’s face above him.

“Too much for you?” he asked, a smug smile on his lips, but it gave Ryan satisfaction to see that slightly glazed look in his eyes, cheeks flushed.

“I’ve had bigger,” Ryan drawled, maintaining eye contact as he slowly fed himself Shane’s dick, finally closing his eyes and hollowing out his cheeks, giving steady suction, and relishing in the choked moans that spilled from Shane’s mouth, willing himself to relax his throat enough to take the rest of it. He started bobbing his head, trying to lose himself in that rhythm. He heard Shane curse softly above and hummed in reply.

“Oh shit— stop,” Shane gasped above him, and pushed at Ryan’s shoulders. Ryan leaned back, letting go with a pop and sitting back on his haunches as he surveyed Shane, with his head back, and eyes closed, chest rising and falling with each breath he took. “God— I need to fuck you right now.”

Ryan slowly stood up and, as Shane watched him with hooded eyes, slipped his shirt over his head and took off his shorts, turning around to head to his bedroom. He heard fabric softly hitting the floor behind him; now Shane’s just as clothed as he was.

Shane pulled him in to kiss him again, when they were in his bedroom, and pressed his fingers to Ryan’s neck, like the first time, and Ryan couldn’t help but lean into it; he could feel his pulse from where Shane pressed his thumb right in the hollow of his throat.

Shane shoved him back onto his bed, and he bounced once, and then Shane was crowding into him, nipping at his mouth, knee right between his thighs, pressing at his erection. “Turn yourself over.”

Ryan obliged and got on his knees, elbows on the bed. “Whatever you need is in the night table drawer.”

He felt rather than saw Shane hover over him to reach the drawer, the bed shifting under his weight, as he got out the half empty bottle of lube and condom Ryan knew was in there, and he definitely felt Shane’s calloused hands spreading his cheeks apart, thumbing at the pucker that he knew was already slick from his prepping.

“Did you finger yourself before I came?” Shane asked roughly, and he inexplicably heated up at the question. 

“Yeah.”  
  
“Were you confident that you were gonna get laid tonight, Ryan Steven Bergara?”

He arched his back to shove against Shane’s hands. “Like I said, if it wasn’t you I was going to find another guy to fuck me.” He hissed when Shane brought down his hand to smack him, hard.

“Don’t be cheeky,” he said, and Ryan inhaled sharply when he felt Shane breach him with a finger, his muscles reflexively tightening around it. Shane withdrew his finger, and Ryan heard the flick of the lube’s cap, felt the coldness of it when Shane drizzled it over his fingers to push them into him again.

“Ah—you bastard,” he gasped, almost flinching away from the too cool sensation. “Couldn’t you warm it up a bit?”

“You’re a big boy, you can handle it,” Shane replied, scissoring his fingers inside him, and then he added a third finger. Ryan closed his eyes, willing himself to relax a bit more. Shane’s fingers were a bit bigger than his own, and the stretch was almost uncomfortable, only bearable because Shane was going slow with his ministrations. 

“Any day now, Madej,” he said, and winced when Shane stretched his fingers out, opening him up more. 

“I bet you were sore from last time. I bet you felt it for the whole day.” Ryan was struggling to focus on Shane’s low, gravelly voice. “So unless you don’t want to be able to sit down for a week I suggest you shut up and take it, _Bergara_.”

Ryan dropped his head down, trying to breathe through it, and it was some time before the slight pricks of pain subsided into something deeper-bodied, and he wiggled his hips, chasing more of that sensation.

“‘m ready,” he said, and let out a small breath when Shane withdrew his fingers all at once. There was a crinkling sound, and Ryan closed his eyes, waiting Shane to finish putting on the condom. 

And then there was a pressure that was bigger than three fingers, and Ryan gritted his teeth to avoid doing something stupid like plead for Shane to hurry up and fuck him senseless.

He couldn’t stop the moan that spilled past his lips as Shane slowly slid into him, all the way to the hilt. He let out a sob, trying to stifle it by muffling it in his pillow, but Shane yanked his hair, pulling his head back. “Stop it, I want to hear you beg.”

“Fuck you.” His breath hitched when Shane thrust into him again, _deep_. Shane paused, and slowly dragged his nails up Ryan’s back, hand gripping Ryan’s nape before he pushed in again. “ _Fuck_ you’re big.”

It slipped out, and maybe it was because he was already delirious from the sex, or because he just can’t control what he says during times like these, but it came out of his mouth, before he could comprehend what he said. Shane’s movements stilled for a moment, but he worked up the rhythm again, and huffed out a laugh.

“Size queen.”

Ryan was shivering with the feeling of being _full_ , and he gasped when the tip of Shane’s cock hit _that spot_ inside of him. “Oh god, right there.”

Shane pulled back, and Ryan tried to push himself backwards, but Shane’s hands gripping his hips stopped him from moving. “Dammit, Shane—”

“Beg.”

“No, come on—”

“Tell me where you want my cock.”

“You were just _there_ , c’mon fuck me—”

“What’s the magic word?”

Ryan twisted himself to look back at Shane. “Now.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Close enough,” he said, and slammed back into Ryan, who let out a strangled scream.

Shane kept fucking into him with little thrusts, each one grazing his prostate, and before long Ryan’s body started quivering with overstimulation, his tiny whimpers like a drug to Shane, whogripped Ryan’s throat to wrench back his head so he could hear them better. 

“Mmph—” Ryan could feel the heat curling to rest in the base of his spine, licking at his belly, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on it, building it up gradually until—

“ _Oh_.” His orgasm came hard and fast, with him shooting across his mussed up sheets, and Shane shuddered behind him, stilling, finding his release right after Ryan.

Ryan slumped down onto his bed, knees and elbows giving out on him. He felt Shane slowly pull out of him, and winced at the twinge of pain that laced through his core. Ryan was shivering, something that always happened after sex, and he already was struggling to keep his eyes open, the languid pull of sleep beckoning him.

He looked through half-closed eyes to see Shane lope towards his bathroom. He shut the door, and there was the sound of water running. Ryan sighed, and finally closed his eyes. 

When he woke up, he was once again alone, aching, and inexplicably angry with himself. He fumbled for his phone and shot off a text message.

_(8:28 AM) Ryan: you’re the type to just come and go aren’t you_

_(8:28 AM) Ryan: emphasis on come_

He waited a few minutes to see if Shane would reply, but the words under his messages still said “Delivered” and not “Read”, so he blew out a frustrated sigh and chucked his phone onto his bed, and got up to get ready for work.

-∆-

And now it was routine for them to meet every week and have their fun with each other. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

“Nothing’s gonna come out of this,” Ryan said, and Shane scoffed.

“Are you just trying to assert that _now_?” he asked incredulously, cocking his head to the side.

“I thought you would want to hear that before you do anything stupid like fall in love with me.”

“You’re just a good lay, Bergara, I’m just here for your body.” Shane smirked, something dark and inscrutable in his eyes. 

“Likewise. Now are you gonna suck my dick or are you just gonna look at it all night?”

“Shut the hell up.”

-∆- 

And so it goes. They’d snap at each other at work, and fool around once in a while. It was harmless fun; they both enjoyed the rough, no-strings-attached sex, and wanted nothing more out of it. 

Then one morning Ryan woke up to find Shane still in his bed, for the first time. And that’s when everything started heading downhill. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc 
> 
> find me on tumblr [@bergarass](https://bergarass.tumblr.com/)
> 
> comments/kudos are always appreciated (:
> 
> warnings: a LOT of cursing and rough sex in general (breathplay and manhandling)


	2. shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i'm back
> 
> some warnings for the chapters: again, some roughness and cursing with the boys (because they can't ever behave). see end for more details

Ryan was already awake, but opening his eyes seemed like too much work, so he laid in bed, like he did every morning, and basked in the soft sunlight that filtered through the sheer curtains covering the bedroom windows. When it felt like it was about time to get up for work, he stretched languorously and then rolled over onto his side.

Right into another body.

“What the FUCK—” His eyes shot open and he scrabbled out of bed, and while wildly flailing, lost his balance, and fell straight on his ass. 

“Whazit?” came the drowsy voice of the _dude in his bed, what the hell_. Ryan grabbed the nearest object next to him, his Hydro Flask, and jumped up, ready to smack the living daylights out of the intruder that snuck underneath his covers with him—

“Shane?” And there he was, with bedhead and sleepy brown eyes, _Shane Madej_. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh.” Shane blinked blearily at him. “You got up before me. First time for everything, yeah?”

Ryan squinted at him disbelievingly. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Since when do we, after…  _fucking_ , wake up together?”

Shane yawned and rolled over, back facing an incredulous Ryan. “I got tired of waking up early and sneaking out, so that’s why I’m here. Thought I would stay over for the night. Surprise.” 

Ryan stared at the unmoving mass that was hogging his comforter, and then he stomped into his bathroom to fill up the flask with tap water, and stood right in front of Shane to throw the contents in his stupid face.

“What _the hell, Ryan_?” he sputtered, sitting up. “You _asshat_.” 

“You wanna wake up at the same time I do? Fine. You’re awake. Get your ass up.”

Ryan was still seething when he slammed the door of his bathroom, stripped off his underwear, and yanked open the shower curtain, twisting the hot and cold knobs until relatively warm water was spraying out of the shower head. “‘Surprise.’ What a moron,” he muttered under his breath, and started scrubbing at his hair viciously, his catharsis instead of taking something heavy and chucking it at Madej’s giant head.

There was a buttery warm smell in the air when he came out of the shower, hair damp and towel slung around his hips. _Great, now he’s eating my food_ , Ryan thought peevishly, wrinkling his nose at the notion.

When he got dressed and padded into the kitchen Shane was cooking on the stove, poking at what looked like an omelet in a frying pan. 

“Why do you keep your pans in the oven?” Shane asked when he spotted Ryan.

“Because I don’t use the oven, and any person in their right mind would utilize that free space to put their cooking supplies. Duh. Who said you could use my kitchen?”

“How about, instead of that ungrateful comment, you could’ve said, ‘Wow Shane, how thoughtful of you, you made breakfast? I appreciate that, let’s eat this delicious frittata and toast together.’”

“How about I instead comment, ‘Eat my ass, Madej.’”

“Been there, done that.”

-∆-

_He actually was planning to stay the night_. In the middle of eating breakfast, which Ryan grudgingly enjoyed (“It doesn’t taste like dog food”), Shane got up with his empty plate, because he ate with the strength and capacity of a demolition crew, and waltzed to the bedroom to get ready for work, coming out wearing a different outfit and a knapsack that Ryan didn’t notice yesterday (probably because he was practically jumped on yesterday night by Shane when he came through the door).

He cheerfully tailgated Ryan as they drove to work, because he was a dick, and _had_ to choose the seat next to Ryan as they waited in the boardroom for the weekly team meeting to start. 

“Can you quit it?” Ryan hissed at him.

“Hm?” Shane innocuously smiled at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ask me ‘what’s wrong’ in that tone of voice, stop being so… you know.” He gestured to both of them vaguely.

Mock realization dawned on Shane’s face. “Ohhhh, does our proximity bother you, Mr. Bergara?” He leaned right next to Ryan’s ear to murmur, “How about you voice your complaints again? I wasn’t sure what you wanted to… articulate with that statement. What is it that you want?”

Ryan inhaled slowly, and breathed out through his nose, willing himself to calm down before he did something irrational that could get both of them hurt, or worse, get himself fired.

He turned to Shane and gave the phoniest smile he could muster. “What I would like, Mr. Madej, is for you to kindly get out of my space before I shove your big schnoz so deep in your head cavity you’ll know what your prefrontal cortex smells like.”

Shane raised an eyebrow, and whistled, but he tilted himself back into his own seat. “Wow, feisty. Where was that fire last night?”

He yelped when Ryan stomped down on his instep, and yanked his foot away. “Touchy much?”

At that moment Henry walked in briskly, looking frazzled, with foam posters under both arms. “I need y’all to help me with something important. We need to talk about our brand identity standards again.”

“You know that this is the third day that we’re focusing on this topic?” Jen said, her mouth downturned, but she resignedly helped Henry set up the posters on the stands.

And thus their conversation was stopped; Ryan settled in, satisfied with attempting to concentrate on the task at hand instead of arguing with Shane.

-∆- 

The problem was he couldn’t concentrate on the task, which was paying attention to Henry, strung out on Vietnamese iced coffee, hyperventilate over views figures and other apparently worrying tidbits of work-in-progress features of the company’s website. 

His attention was currently occupied by the very real, very large hand of Shane Madej on his knee. 

The meeting started off well enough, albeit without any pizzazz, and Ryan found himself doodling on a piece of paper, small cartoon ghosts and zigzags overlapping each other, halfheartedly listening to Henry and Brent argue over viewership and acceptable content, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shane yawn and stretch, arms canting upwards. He casually slung an arm over the back of Ryan’s chair, who stiffened and sat up a little straighter.

He glared at Shane. “The hell, dude?” he muttered under his breath, so that the other people at the table couldn’t hear him. But judging by their glazed looks, they weren’t even aware of the Henry vs. Brent showdown, much less _this_.

Shane glanced at him and then looked away unconcernedly. “What?”

“What do you mean _what_ , can you, you know, put your hand somewhere else? Just because you have those freakishly long limbs doesn’t mean that you get to splay them everywhere.”

“Whatever you wish, Bergara.” Shane shrugged and withdrew his arm, but instead of retreating into his own space like a normal human being, he brought it down and clasped Ryan’s ripped-jean-clad knee, his thumb brushing over the bare skin there. 

He most definitely did not let out a squeak, and Shane most definitely did not smirk at that.

“When I meant another place, I didn’t mean _another place on my body_.”

Shane ignored him in favor of feigning interest in Brent’s refutal of Henry’s suggestion that they up the amount of posts they make per day to engage more of the community.

And then Shane brought his hand up higher up his thigh, making Ryan tense up even more. “Madej…”

“You gonna do something about it, baby?” His voice was barely above a rumble of words, but Ryan could still hear the smugness in it. Shane knew he wasn’t going to make a scene in front of everyone. But no one was giving them strange looks, as Ryan surreptitiously glanced around the table, and if anyone noticed they weren’t showing it. Maycie seemed like she was asleep with both her eyes open, Daysha was actually sleeping, and Jen was amusedly spectating yet another argument between the Brontosaurus and the caffeine addict.

“I’m _so_ gonna fuck you up after this,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“Tough words, Smalls.”

“Enjoy being able to talk while you can. And don’t call me baby.”

-∆-

The meeting adjourned fifteen minutes later, Brent hot on the heels of Henry, as the rest of them filed out to go back to their respective workspaces. But Ryan reached up to grab Shane’s shirt collar to yank him the opposite direction of where everyone else was heading, and dragged a halfheartedly complaining Shane down the hall and into a supply room where the floor stored their props and costumes.

“God. You. Are. Infuriating,” Ryan gritted out, after shutting and locking the door behind him and pushing Shane into the clothes rack. There was about two feet of space between them, but it could’ve been inches, with the stifling air in the claustrophobic room. “Are you _sick_? Or _crazy_? Is it because you woke up, quite literally, on the wrong side of the wrong bed today?”

Shane shrugged. “I dunno, it seems like this is affecting you more than me.”

Ryan reeled back, affronted. “Uh, excuse me, but this doesn’t have to do with my reaction. This has to do with your newfound _touchy-feely-ness_ today and— and—”

Shane raised a hand to gently, but deliberately push at the center of Ryan’s chest, and Ryan resisted the urge to stumble back. 

“You liked it,” Shane said.

“What? No—”

Shane ignored him and continued, “You won’t care to admit it, but you liked me doing that. Otherwise you would’ve done something to stop it.” He smiled crookedly down at Ryan. “Come on, that act isn’t fooling me.”

Ryan scoffed. “You’re delusional.”

“Uh huh. You dragged me all the way into this closet—” he gestured up at the small ceiling— “to tell me that. Is that all you wanted to do in here? Tell me off about my unacceptable behavior, Mom?” He smirked. “Or was it because you wanted to do something other than talk with that big mouth of yours?”

Ryan flushed at that, and he glared up at the stupid cocky idiot. “You better stop this game that you’re playing.”

Shane chuckled at that, and lifted up his hand to graze his fingers over Ryan’s cheekbone, which he tried, and failed, to dodge. “Make me.” 

He trailed his fingers down Ryan’s neck to cup his jaw in his hand, the intensity of his stare boring into Ryan, and suddenly all the air around them seemed to be sucked out of the room. Ryan couldn’t breathe.

“You gonna do anything about this, big guy?” Shane murmured, leaning in, and it was disconcerting to have him near like this. _This is how close you were together last night_ , his brain helpfully supplied. 

It was only for a few seconds more that the tension between them held, Shane’s brown eyes locked on his own, before Ryan thought, _Fuck it_ , and rose up on his tiptoes, crushing his lips to Shane’s, while the other brought up both his hands to cup Ryan’s face, their mouths moving together, Ryan cursing softly when Shane broke away and started trailing kisses down Ryan’s neck.

“Fuck— don’t you dare give me a hickey now,” Ryan said breathlessly, chest heaving as he gulped in warm air. He could feel Shane smile against the skin of his neck, shivered at the prickly feeling of Shane’s stubble rubbing against his jaw.

A wave of utter _want_ slammed into him as Shane rolled his hips against his, and Ryan was suddenly and uncomfortably aware that he was getting hard in his very snug-fitting jeans.

“Mmph—” Shane captured his lips again in another kiss, open-mouthed and wet; Ryan arched up to gain some more friction. He was dully reminded of high school, when 17-year-old him would sneak into janitors’ closets during study hall with guys and girls to have furtive necking sessions, the same rush and apprehension of fearing being caught and lust coursing through his veins.

He felt Shane, also hard, against him, and reached down to cop a feel, relishing in Shane’s almost pained grunt when Ryan pressed against his erection. 

“Oh, _god_ ,” Shane moaned, and Ryan smirked.

“It’s ‘Ryan,'” he said and inhaled sharply when Shane’s fingers pressed against his throat’s pulse points. _Oh fuck I love this so much—_

“I like you better when you’re not talking,” Shane said roughly, and there was a moment of utter breathlessness when he squeezed Ryan’s neck lightly, and Ryan felt his heart skip one, two beats, as he struggled to gasp in a breath. If anything this was turning him on even more, with Shane pressed up against him, caging him in with his lanky arms.

He jumped when there was a knocking on the door he was pushed against, which was followed by a muffled “Hello?”

“Fuck,” he said, heartbeat now ratcheting up due to panic. He wildly turned his head to Shane, who pulled back quickly, looking just as disconcerted as Ryan was. “Uh— just a second!” He smoothed down his hair and clothing as best as he could, while Shane frantically did the same, and squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on basketball stats to will down his boner, and finally unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a bemused Adam Bianchi.

“Hey dude, what’s up?” Ryan forced a chipper tone, angling himself behind the doorway in case Adam would see his relatively big problem.

“Hey… Are you guys all right? You seem flustered.” Adam was curiously peering inside the room. His owlish gaze behind his glasses raked over the both of them, and Ryan forced a cough.

“Uh— yeahhh, we were just arguing over what we needed for the, uh, new video we’re working on.” He nudged Shane, as if to say, “Play along.”

Shane jerked next to him, and stumbled out a, “We’re getting… dresses. For us. Not to wear, just for others. To wear. The dresses.” Ryan blindly reached out to grab at the clothing behind him, miraculously snagging his fingers on some frilly dresses, and hastily holding them up as evidence, as both he and Shane slipped out of the cramped room.

Adam tilted his head to the side, adding greatly to the mental image that Ryan has of him as an owl. “Okay. Do you need help or something?”

“We’re good! Thanks, Adam.” He offered a tight-lipped smile to Adam, as the latter stuck his head inside to survey the small area, and grabbed some food props, which he stacked and balanced in his arms.

Adam smiled faintly at the both of them, and lifted his head in parting, as his hands were full. “Good luck with the vid.” And with that he wandered off, leaving Shane and Ryan still flushed and disoriented.

At least his hard-on subsided enough to not make it conspicuous.

He shot an annoyed look at Shane, all pink-cheeked and disheveled hair, and piled the dresses into Shane’s arms.

“Here,” he growled, “Take these and shove them up your ass.” And with that Ryan stalked down the hallway and turned a corner, determined to put as much distance between himself and Shane before his body betrayed him again to try to snog the living daylights out of him.

-∆-

It was about time to start heading home, but Ryan was still hung up on the goddamn graphics of his video. He was fiddling with the scene optimization, trying to get the video file as small as possible to lower the render time, when suddenly, Jen popped up behind his computer, startling him into jumping in his own seat.

“ _Jesus_ , Jen, this is like, the fifth time, next time just wave or something like a normal human being instead of trying to scare the crap out of me,” he said as he fumbled to slip off his bulky, noise-canceling headphones.

Jen, ever the sympathizer, shrugged blithely, and grinned lopsidedly at him. “The gang’s heading out now for some drinks, wanna join?”

“You know I never pass up an opportunity to ingest as much alcohol as I can, but I need to finish editing this as soon as possible, or Henry’s going to pester me incessantly until I do.”

“Your video isn’t set to upload until—” Jen took a peek at the hastily scrawled deadlines Ryan scribbled on a neon orange Post-It that he plastered on his computer screen— “next Tuesday, You still have time.”

“You know you’re making it very difficult for me to avoid procrastinating on important work, right?”

“That’s what friends and drinking buddies are for, Ry. Now c’mon, that’s a face that looks like it needs some tequila.”

-∆-

“Oh yeah, some of us aren’t down to Uber home, since last time someone threw up in the backseat of the driver’s car—”

“Oh my god,” Ryan protested, as they neared the exit of the building. “It was _one time_ , and that, I recall, was a very bumpy road we were going over. I’ll hold my liquor better this time around, I promise.”

Jen ignored his interruption and continued, “So we’re taking one of our cars instead. We have a DD this time.”

“Sounds good. Who’s the unlucky nondrinker?”

“Shane.”

Ryan stopped in his tracks, grabbing Jen’s forearm. “ _Shane_? Oh, I’m definitely going to throw up in _his_ backseat.”

“Don’t be so childish,” Jen replied breezily, shaking off his hand, and they continued walking. “You two are both big boys, you can behave around each other.”

“I always behave, what are you talking about?”

She made an amused sound. “Sure, buddy. Denial’s not just a river in Egypt.”

-∆- 

Ryan was having a grand old time in the back of Shane’s car; his legs were currently wedged between the driver seat and his own seat, because Bonestilts Madej had to push his seat all the way back to make room for his gargantuan limbs. While Daysha was comfortable riding shotgun, as well as Maycie behind her and Jen next to her, Ryan had about as much space as he did hours back in that dinky storage closet falsely labeled as a “room”.

“Alright!” Shane chirped, and he braked the car with what seemed like a little too much force, and Ryan lurched forward with too much momentum, his forehead hitting Shane’s headrest with a dull thump. “We’re here.”

“Asshole,” Ryan muttered under his breath, and unfolded himself from his origami pose as he opened the door to stretch his cramped legs.

They all ambled into the bar, and Ryan wrinkled his nose at the overpowering smell of pumpkin spice, probably emanating from the miasma of golden candles scattered throughout the entire place.

“It’s only September,” he remarked to Jen, after they ordered and received their drinks, “And there’s already hubbub over pumpkins, _unbelievable_. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween season as much as any other person, but this is excessive.”

“I think it’s nice, don’t be such a drag, Bergara,” Daysha laughed lightheartedly, rolling her eyes at him. 

“I have to agree, the candles are quite lovely,” Shane said, shooting Ryan a look, sipping his club soda in a manner that could be described as self-satisfied.

“Shut up, Shane.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at him, and Ryan determinedly looked away, taking a swig of his first rum and coke in order to have a reason to avoid eye contact with him.

“Let’s get shitfaced, I’m ready to forget the day.”

He heard Shane chuckle. “Really, Bergara? Today was that bad? I’m pretty sure there were some memories you want to keep.”

He flushed, and scowled into his glass. “Are you sure you don’t want to drink? You seem more tolerable when you’re not sober.”

Ryan snuck a glance at Shane, who was grinning crookedly at him. “I’m not sure if it’s safe to have both of us drunk in the same room. Who knows what’s going to happen.”

Ryan’s cheeks warmed even more, and he was sure that he was beet red by now. Maycie chimed in, “Did you guys get home okay last time? You both showed up to work in one piece, so I knew y’all didn’t actually maim each other.”

“We were okay,” Ryan quickly said, at the same time Shane drawled, “We were more than okay.”

“Huh, wonder how that could be interpreted,” Jen said, wiggling her eyebrows at the girls, and they giggled. Ryan sighed, knocked back the rest of his drink, and ordered another. It seemed like it was going to be a long night, so he was going to make it pass by as soon as possible, in the best way possible: with alcohol.

“Jen, you were correct, I think I need about five tequila shots, stat.”

-∆-

“Uhh Ryan, maybe it’s time to stop drinking right about now.”

“No, lemme try to pass out for once, I don’t have work tomorrow so it doesn’t really matter,” he slurred, clumsily reaching for his fifth drink— or was it sixth? And this wasn’t counting the shots he took a while back with the gang, either. 

Daysha frowned at him. “I can hear your liver screaming at you, so maybe it’s time for us to go home?”

“Hey, if I hold an open flame near him, is it possible to light him on fire?” Shane remarked, drinking what looked like a Capri Sun pouch— which Ryan didn’t even _know_ they stocked at bars. “He must be about eighty percent alcohol by now.”

“Shut the _helllll_ up, Shane,” Ryan mumbled, and Shane sniggered.

“Someone get me one of the pumpkin candles, I’m going to test this science out.”

Maycie snorted. “Is this science or just plain stupidity?”

Daysha blew out an exasperated breath. “Y’all are ridiculous. C’mon Shane, let’s go before Ryan drinks any more and pukes everywhere.”

-∆- 

Once again he was stuck behind Shane’s seat, enduring every bump in the road and swerve as they dropped off Maycie, Daysha, and Jen, who patted Ryan comfortingly on the head as she hopped out of the car.

“Bye Ryan! Bye Shane! Make sure that he doesn’t sleep on his back and die choking on his own vomit.”

“I hate you, Jen,” he called out, and sprawled out in the backseat as soon as there was more room. “Madej, get me home as fast as possible so I can pass out, thank you very much.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Avada Kedavra,” Ryan slurred out, “Wait, what’s the one that makes you do stupid shit? _Imperio_.”

Shane laughed. “You’re such a nerd, Bergara.”

-∆-

“Y’ can just… leave, y’know.” Ryan fished out his keys from his tight pants pocket, clumsily holding them up near his face to discern his house keys from the others. “I can take care of m’self.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re piss drunk. Jen would kill me if you actually died from choking on your own vomit. Also it’d be embarrassing to write your obituary and state that to be the cause of death.”

“I… appreciate the sentiment.” Ryan’s head hurt from multitasking, by trying to find his key while replying to Shane at the same time. He finally found it, but his hand-eye coordination failed him when he attempted to fit the key in the lock.

“Here,” Shane exasperatedly said, moving to swipe the keys from Ryan’s lax hand and turning the lock himself. They stumbled into Ryan’s apartment, and Shane carefully maneuvered Ryan to sit on the couch, before ducking into the kitchen.

“Where ya goin’?” Ryan yelled after him, and he blearily watched Shane fill up a glass with tap water, and glance inside his pantry and fridge.

“Here. Drink.” When Ryan made no move to accept the glass, Shane made a frustrated noise, and held itso Ryan could sip from it, parted lips brushing the rim of it. His other hand supported Ryan’s head from lolling back. “You need to hydrate yourself, or else you’re going to feel shittier than normal the morning after. And you don’t have any bread, which would’ve helped even more.”

“I can’t eat bread,” came Ryan’s muffled reply, after he drained the glass, and jerked his head back. “I’m on a diet.”

Shane set the glass on the coffee table, and snorted, plopping himself next to Ryan. “Not gonna work if you’re still drinking.”

“Touché. Are you really going to stay here to make sure I don’t die?”

“You bet your ass I am. I’m not going to get incarcerated because your life was in my hands and I fucked off instead of looking over you.”

“Thank you, _God_ , I’m full of gravi— gratitude,” Ryan mumbled, lightly swatting Shane’s thigh.

“Call me Shane.”

“Shane. Shuh- _ane_ Mah- _dayyyy_ ,” Ryan drawled, dopily grinning at him, “Didja know you look like a— a C-rate Ed Norton?”

Shane furrowed his brow. “Who?”

“Ed. Eddie. Edward Norton. Y’know—” Ryan gestured haphazardly at nothing whatsoever in the air. “Acclaimed actor. Fight Club. The Illusionist. The Grand Budapest Hotel. Birdman. That one fucked up movie where he plays a fuckin’ bagel.”

“What the hell are you talking about— _oh_ , Sausage Party? Didn’t know he was the gay Jewish bagel, cool.”

“I’m—” Ryan paused for a moment, calculating, his head lolling back— “maybe one-third of that description. Yeah, thirty-three percent.”

“So you’re telling me thirty-three percent of your body is… leavened dough.”

“You dumbass, I was referrin’ to the part where I like dicks. Was that not obvious? It is now. I like dicks. Was the bagel gay or bi? Either way, I…… like guys. And girls. But mostly guys. And I’m trying to like you, but you’re just making it _so_ hard.” He stopped talking for a moment, and snickered. “And whenever you come over you make it hard, too, _if you know what I mean_ —”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.” They were silent for a while, and then Ryan sighed, heavily dropping his head onto Shane’s shoulder. “Hate to say this, but ‘m glad you’re here. You… make things clear.”

Shane shifted to peer at Ryan’s face, his serious brown eyes latched onto Ryan’s unfocused ones. “What?”

Ryan giggled. “Hey, that rhymed.”

“What did you mean by—”

“I’m glad you’re here, Shane. Madej. Ma-day. _Maaaaaaa-dayyyyy_. Shane Ma-day. You make my day. And night. Mostly night.” He giggled again, trailing off into a breathy wheeze. 

“What’s worrying is that you’re still talking like you haven’t swallowed a gallon of alcohol already. Are you always this weird when you’re drunk?”

“Alllll the time, baby,” Ryan replied, closing his eyes.

Shane scoffed. “It’s a double standard, isn’t it? I can’t call you baby, but it’s perfectly fine vice versa.”

“Yes,” Ryan said, eyes still closed, his head a warm weight on Shane’s shoulder. “That’s exactly it.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t make sense—”

“Helen used to call me ‘baby’.” There was a long pause after Ryan interrupted him, and then he spoke again. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“What?” Shane said, turning his head to look at Ryan again, who opened his eyes, groggily gazing off into the distance. “Oh shit— I didn’t know that. You could’ve said something earlier, I—”

“Hush,” Ryan said lazily, but the look in his eyes turned more somber. “I didn’t want to tell you. Didn’t know if it mattered.”

“Well, of course it matters,” Shane said incredulously. “It made you uncomfortable, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, though. You weren’t aware… of what happened.”

They lapsed back into silence, the only sound that Shane could hear was the small breaths of air Ryan exhaled.

“I’m sorry,” Shane blurted out.

Ryan made an inquiring sound low in his throat. “For?”

“Reminding you of that when I…. I didn’t mean to—”

“Shane Madej. Ma-gay. My gay. It’s okay. Hey, that rhymed, too! I’m fine, really. I mean, it’s been four months, and I still can’t… bring myself to talk to her normally. Because I’m a pussy and I feel insecure as hell.” He fell silent again, and then, “Probably shouldn’t have said that, either.”

Shane shifted uncomfortably next to him. “Well, uh. I’m glad that you could share that with me. But you don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not up for it.”

Ryan blew out a breath. “Screw it. I’m still hurt as hell. But we’ve both moved on, like mature adults. Or at least tried to. Still feel like shit, though.” His lips twitched into a rueful, bitter smile. “Five years, and then… blindsided. So I’m still fucked up over that. I couldn’t, like, take joy in anything I did, ‘cause most of what I did was with her. Waking up next to her. Eating. Fuckin’… goin’ everywhere together. I was depressed for _so fuckin’ long_.” He covered his face with his hands, palms rubbing into his eyes, and exhaled, hard. “It’s getting easier each day, but sometimes I think back to it and I don’t want to… to deal with my stupid emotions so I try to drown it with liquor. Like tonight.” He laughed, a harsh sound. “God, I’m so drunk right now.”

Shane glanced at Ryan, with his mouth downturned and his eyes solemn, and hesitantly brought his arm up to put it around Ryan, patting his shoulder awkwardly. “Uh, I know you still feel bad about it, but… trust me when I say it will eventually pass. And your feelings are valid. No matter what happened you’re allowed to feel what you feel.”

Ryan hmm’ed in reply, and they sat in silence like that, Ryan burrowed into the side of Shane, and then Ryan spoke up again. “You’re like a light. That’s what I mean when I say you make things clear. You’re… a beacon. And as much as I hate it sometimes because you’re too fuckin’ bright sometimes, you— like— it’s a good quality. You’re rational.”

Shane couldn’t help the small smile that broke out on his face. “Do you mean that, Ryan Bergara?”

Ryan gave a noncommittal grunt, and Shane felt rather than saw him shrug. “Take it how you will.”

Shane let out a contented sigh, and relaxed into the couch. “Well. In that case, thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”

He didn’t hear a reply from Ryan, and when he peeked down at him, the other was already fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: some light brightplay and manhandling (again (^: )
> 
> send me writing prompts on tumblr [@bergarass](https://bergarass.tumblr.com/)
> 
> comments/kudos are always appreciated!!


	3. anomalous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo i'm back after like almost 2 months? (i told y'all i'd update before the yr ended LOL)
> 
> as always, enjoy

“Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty.”

Perhaps it was his brain playing tricks on him, or it was just him imagining things during his hangover, but he’d be _damned_ if that wasn’t the voice of—

“Shane. Fucking. Madej,” he croaked out, slowly cracking open his eyes. “You’re here. Again.”

“You’re alive!” Shane called out from far away, in too loud of a voice, and Ryan winced as it reverberated in his ears, squinting against the light searing his eyes. His mouth felt gross and tacky, and his throat was _parched_.

“What the fuuuuuck are you— no, don’t answer that yet.” He closed his eyes and eased himself back into his… couch? _So I didn’t make it back into bed—_

Willing the lurching wave of nausea back, Ryan collected his thoughts to attempt to ask a coherent question. “What the hell happened last night?”

“Drinks happened, Bergara. You consumed half your body weight in hard liquor.” Ryan dimly heard sizzling and a hellish scraping sound, accompanied by the almost vomit-inducing smell of onions and butter. Shane was cooking. _Again_. 

Ryan strained to remember— _oh yeah, I don’t have work today. It’s Saturday. I went to have drinks with the gang. Shane was driving. I was drinking too much to forget about shit. And it kinda worked._

“Remind me why you’re here, Madej,” he mumbled, as he slowly got to his feet, rubbing the crustiness from his eyes, and dragged himself to the kitchen where Shane was making breakfast. He pawed for a glass in a cabinet, and filled it to the brim with tap water, draining the glass slowly, and he shifted to Shane, who looked up from folding over what looked like scrambled eggs.

“You mean you don’t recall Jen asking me to babysit your drunk ass?”

“What I do remember is downing tequila shots so I didn’t have to deal with you sober.”

“You’re _welcome_ , that was the phrase you were looking for.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“So… does this mean you don’t remember our conversation last night?”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him, tilting up his head to make eye contact with Shane, who returned it, expression inscrutable. “What did we talk about?”

A lopsided grin appeared on Shane’s lips a second too late, and he returned his attention to cooking. “You told me I had nice eyes.”

“ _Shut up_.”

“Like you were drowning in dark chocolate,” Shane singsonged, breaking out into laughter when Ryan shook his head exasperatedly.

“Stop it, you’re too loud, my brain’s gonna explode. I most certainly did not say that.”

“It was the stuff of fanfiction, Ryan,” he snickered, turning off the stove and carefully plating the eggs. “Ten whole minutes of bad drunken spoken poetry dedicated to my eyeballs.”

“Sure, dude.”

“And uh, you need to go grocery shopping, because there’s no way you can survive on eggs and La Croix alone. I’m pretty sure the bell pepper I used yesterday was the first one that ever entered that fridge.”

“Shut up, Shane. I don’t cook. Chipotle is literally all of my meals. Eggs are just good protein in case I actually have to whip up something.”

Shane grinned crookedly, sliding two plates of eggs onto the small dinner table, already set with silverware and two glasses of orange juice, and motioned for Ryan to sit down with him. “God, you’re such a bachelor.”

Ryan shuffled to his seat, gingerly sitting down to avoid any head spinning from moving too fast. “You didn’t have to cook, you know. I can take care of myself.”

Shane made a disbelieving noise, mouth full of eggs. “Keep telling yourself that, buckaroo,” he said once he swallowed, “And you’re welcome, for breakfast. Eat up, or you’re going to feel hungover for longer than you should. Drink your OJ, too. Stay hydrated.”

“Thanks, Doctor Madej, your commentary is _greatly_ appreciated. What’d you do last night, scold me for drinking too much and slowly killing myself?”

Shane’s eyes flickered up to his, and then back down at his plate, pushing around his food. “Uh. Yeah, I was rattling off some statistics about death rates in the States rising due to alcoholism. Drunk Ryan quite enjoyed it.”

“I’m pretty sure drunk Ryan would’ve flipped you off for that.” He meticulously speared a piece of egg on the tines of his fork, and raised it to his mouth, but didn’t eat it. “I don’t remember the last time I was blackout drunk like that. Those nights seem to all blur together.”

Shane frowned. “That can’t be healthy.”

Ryan shrugged nonchalantly, surveying the morsel of food on his fork, and finally popped it into his mouth, speaking after he swallowed. “I’m used to it. Fraternity life prepares you for a lot of unconsciousness via heavy drinking after college.”

“Maybe you need to go on an alcohol cleanse for a while, give your poor liver a break.”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh.”

It was quiet for a while as they ate their food, the only sounds in the room being the silverware clinking against their plates and their chewing.

Ryan sipped at his juice, and gently scooted back, standing up and dragging himself to the bathroom. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Shane _mhm’_ d in reply, lost in whatever he was doing on his phone, and Ryan made his way to the bathroom. He started to feel more clear-headed under the steaming spray; the shower was helping him awaken his hungover senses.

Surprisingly, Shane was still there when he was done freshening up in the bathroom. Ryan slid his laptop onto his coffee table next to his pile of mail, and sat next to Shane on the couch. He was scrolling through his phone, while Ryan opened up his laptop to check his email, and offhandedly remarked on his observation.

“Hm?” Shane looked at him, and shrugged. “Yeah, I quite enjoy overstaying my welcome.”

Ryan laughed softly. “It’s… fine, I guess.”

Shane hummed noncommittally, poking at the stack of mail thrown haphazardly on the coffee table. “What’s this?” He pointed at a glossy flyer, with the words “Experience Your Worst Nightmare” enclosed in an image of bloody fangs, the phrase seemingly engulfed in the dark caverns of a mouth.

Ryan glanced over at it. “Just a haunted house I’m going to during Halloween week with some friends.”

“And I’m not invited?”

“Key word _friends_.”

“Asshole.” Shane leaned back in his seat, slinging an arm over the edge of the couch “You get scared easily?”

“I mean… I’m not hyperemotional. But I’m not going to lie and say I’m not frightened when I subject myself to horror. Isn’t that the point of haunted houses? It’s silly to go into one full of machismo and pretend that you won’t be scared. That defeats the purpose of going to one.” He looked at Shane. “Do _you_ get scared easily?”

“Uh, kind of,” Shane admitted, raking his hand through his hair. “Horror games, haunted houses aren’t my thing. I can tolerate movies to a certain degree, though.”

“That’s what I don’t get, how the hell can you be scared of those things but not believe that they’re real?”

Shane let out a loud laugh, and Ryan winced. “Ow.”

“Sorry, forgot about your poor widdle head,” Shane said, looking like he was holding back some more laughs. “I just can’t believe we’re having this debate again.”

“Revisiting the issue, baby.” Shane raised an eyebrow at that, but Ryan continued, ignoring the inexplicable warmth blooming in his cheeks. “You know I didn’t start disliking you until that one day we were grouped together for the supernatural debate video.”

“Maybe it stemmed from the fact that I had substantial evidence while… you didn’t have anything to back up whatever ghosts are.” Shane smirked at him, and reached for his glass of water to take a drink.

“And of course, you do the thing that literally drives me the most crazy, sipping liquids after making a ‘point’—” Ryan made air quotes with his fingers— “Doesn’t bolster it further, it makes you look like a headass.”

“And you have the insults of a teenage boy.”

“Shut up.”

“ _Ohhh_ , the classic _Shut up, Shane_ , a good indicator that you have no good comebacks, and never will because your way of debating is yelling ‘Ghosts are real!’ over and ov—”

“I just think it’s _funny how_ —” Ryan closed his eyes, willing his voice to lower because the volume was making his head pound. “You can confidently assert that there is no such thing as the supernatural. But you can get scared by it? What’s your reasoning there, big guy?”

“My reasoning is that humans are inherently terrified of the unknown, not knowing what’s going to happen. That’s just science. And the horror genre plays and preys on that, so of course I’m going to be scared when I play Resident Evil or go to Knott’s Scary Farm or whatever. It’s innate to do so.”

“That doesn’t explain the possibility—”

“That’s just it, the _possibility_ , if there even is one—”

“Or the existence— let me finish, Madej— of the paranormal. There is evidence of ghosts, and supernatural entities—”

“Doctored photos. ‘Disembodied’ voices that, quite frankly, mostly sound like flatulence or some shit. Opening and closing doors— _oh wait_ , can’t the wind also do that?”

“You _can’t_ just disregard every piece of hard—”

“It’s not hard, don’t say—”

“ _Rock_ -hard proof by saying that it’s all fake.”

Shane scoffed. “Have you ever seen a ghost, Ryan?”

“No, but—”

“Or a spirit? A demon? A poltergeist? There’s no completely factual evidence that point to the existence of stuff like that. Even the tools ghost-hunters use to gather their evidence sound like bullshit. And how hard is it to just make something up? You can’t use _anecdotes_ and campfire stories as scientific proof.”

Ryan bristled at the comments. “But at what point does accounts of these encounters stop being stories and start becoming _dependable_? It’s when a large sample size confirms that they saw or heard or felt something at certain places, which is repeated, and this happens _everywhere_ in the world. Are you saying all those people are lying about what they experienced?”

“Have you ever heard of the placebo effect? You go into a situation expecting something to happen, and you psych yourself out into believing that it will happen. You anticipate feeling scared, ergo it happens.”

Ryan blew out a frustrated breath. “Okay, why don’t you go ahead and explain why ghosts aren’t real but aliens could be? Or fuckin’… Bigfoot, or the Yeti? Why are they real and not the spooky shit?”

Shane spread his lanky, noodle arms out, as if to express his incredulity. “Because _science_.”

“God fucking dammit, you can’t just say—”

“There are so many theories that point to the existence of alien life, it’s just something that is _plausible_. Like alien bacteria, or microorganisms that can inhabit the different climates of the celestial bodies in our universe, extremophiles, if you will—”

“What about more intelligent, sophisticated aliens?”

“That’s a possibility, just like Bigfoot and the Yeti—”

“So why aren’t ghosts given the same privilege in thought?”

“Maybe it’s because there’s nothing scientific nor tangible to back up the notion that they exist.”

“That’s literally how theories are made, sometimes you have to start with conjectures and have numerous trials back it up before you _tentatively_ propose a theory. The refutals that you gave me denying the existence of ghosts can apply to that stupid Bigfoot you believe in—”

“You don’t _believe_ what you know is real, you _accept_ it,” Shane interjected smugly, and Ryan scowled at him. “Belief implies that there’s faith involved, usually of the blind variety.”

“It all applies in the case of the overgrown gorilla.” Ryan ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “Doctored photos. Grainy, bad-quality videos. _Hoaxes_. Urban legends and made-up stories. People freaking out in the woods because of a squirrel or whatever, thinking it was Bigfoot.”

“That last one sounds like you.” 

Ryan huffed indignantly. “What I wanted to say was, we haven’t seen ghosts yet, or Bigfoot, or aliens. Maybe they are real, maybe they’re not, but we don’t know. So we can’t say if they’re real or not. But my bet is that ghosts are real.”

“Nope.”

“Fuck _you_ , sir. You’re looking way too comfortable on that high horse.”

“Don’t be like that, b—” Shane broke off in his reply, and grimaced. “Shit.”

Ryan frowned. _That was weird_. “Whatever. I’m gonna get ready to gym. Enjoy your view from up there.”

He shut his bedroom door with a little more force than necessary when he entered, and tripped over to his closet, stripping down and pulling on his workout clothes, while simultaneously throwing a clean outfit and his Hydroflask into his gym sack, still simmering over the argument with Shane.

He admitted that he was just as hard-headed as Shane, but it frustrated him when Tall Idiot acted like he knew everything, as if any argument was a black or white issue, with no room for uncertainties.

_Just like the day we first met_. He laughed to himself. Shane Madej, as much of an ass as he was back then. 

When Ryan came back into the living room, Shane was gone, the only evidence that he was actually there in the first place was the dirty dishes in the sink that Ryan undoubtedly had to clean up. 

_After gymming_ , he told himself, _I’ll do chores_ , and grabbed his phone and keys before heading out, determined to sweat out the last of the liquor in his system, shoving all thoughts of Shane out of his head.

-∆-

Two excruciating hours later, Ryan lay gasping on the mat of the boxing ring at his local gym, as Adaline, his sparring partner, curiously looked down at him. 

“You good, my dude?” she inquired, cocking his head at him, offering a hand to help him get up.

“Yeah,” he wheezed out, “Hold up.” He graciously took it, and she grimaced as she leaned back and dug her heels into the mat to gain enough leverage to haul him up.

“You’re getting lazy with your stances, Ry,” she said, ripping off the Velcro on her hand wraps and casually throwing them into her duffel bag. “And you’re slower.”

“Hush, I’m recovering from partial alcohol poisoning,” he retorted, and climbed out of the ring with shaky legs, struggling to peel off the ankle support wraps clinging to his heated skin after shucking off his boxing gloves.

“Excuses, old man,” Adaline laughed. “You’re getting soft. Is it that guy that’s distracting you?”

Ryan squinted at her glistening, smug face, and toweled off his face. “A lot of guys distract me. You’re gonna have to be more specific th—”

“Shane,” she interrupted, pressing her water bottle to her pink face. “I’m not referring to all the times you wax rhapsodic about Henry Cavill’s muscles or whatever basketball rookie you always obsess over.”

“Shane’s not distracting me,” Ryan grumbled, grabbing his stuff to head to the showers. 

“ _Mày xạo quá trời_.”

“What? You know I don’t understand Vietnamese.”

She raised her eyebrows. “‘You’re such a liar.’”

“Oh wait, I know how to respond to that: ‘ _im lang_.’”

“You said it wrong, it’s ‘ _im lặng._ ’”

“That’s literally what I said, you’re just throwing me off.”

“If you want to tell me to shut up in Viet you gotta get down the diacritics, buddy.” She laughed and waved at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow here, if you’re not preoccupied with _đẹp trai_.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Ryan yelled at her retreating back, and she threw a two-fingered salute in his direction before heading out of sight.

-∆-

Ryan’s phone pinged a couple of times as he was driving home, but he resisted the urge to text until he stopped at a red light.

_(2:48 PM) Shane: Hey, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. Your thoughts and beliefs are yours_

_(2:48 PM) Shane: And I’m sorry if I sound like a douche by trying to disprove your arguments. It’s nothing personal, I just am like that sometimes_

Ryan raised his eyebrows. _Interesting_. It surprised him that Shane would actually reach out first to apologize for anything, let alone an issue that he loved to get on Ryan’s case about.

_(2:51 PM) Ryan: sometimes?_

_(2:51 PM) Shane: I’m baring my heart here, Bergara._

_(2:51 PM) Ryan: touching_

_(2:52 PM) Ryan: well. that was unexpected_

_(2:52 PM) Ryan: but yeah, you can be dickish at times. it’s fine_

_(2:52 PM) Ryan: i don’t expect you to agree with me always_

_(2:52 PM) Ryan: but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to spin kick you for all those times you were being THAT GUY_

A honk behind him startled him, and Ryan hurriedly threw his phone into the passenger seat and pressed on the gas, picking it up again at the next red light. Shane had already responded.

_(2:53 PM) Shane: What do you mean by that?_

_(2:58 PM) Ryan: the supernatural debate_

_(2:58 PM) Ryan: trying to one-up me during team meetings_

_(2:58 PM) Ryan: and man, i hated it when you got on my case about everything_

_(2:58 PM) Ryan: was it not obvious that was why i hated your guts?_

_(2:59 PM) Shane: I beg to differ, I thought you disliked me because I was always right._

Ryan rolled his eyes, and turned off his phone, ignoring the notification sounds for the rest of the way home. He finally checked back after parking in front of his apartment complex.

_(3:05 PM) Shane: I can see you leaving me on seen._

_(3:09 PM) Shane: Ok, I’m sorry. That was childish. But I didn’t mean to piss you off that much with what I did. I thought it was just bantering._

_(3:10 PM) Ryan: just bantering??? we got banned from being in videos for an entire month because henry was sick of our screeching at each other while filming_

_(3:10 PM) Shane: That was an unintended consequence._

_(3:10 PM) Ryan: what the hell is that supposed to mean??_

_(3:11 PM) Shane: I mean, it wasn’t supposed to go that far._

_(3:11 PM) Shane: I think my attempt at friendship kinda failed, to be quite honest._

_(3:11 PM) Ryan: ya think?_

_(3:11 PM) Ryan: wait you wanted to be friends with me?_

_(3:12 PM) Shane: I’m trying to find the shrugging emoji but idk where it is_

_(3:12 PM) Ryan: i would’ve been content if you showed up one day with in n out or shit_

_(3:12 PM) Ryan: “hey ryan wanna have a conversation about popcorn?”_

_(3:12 PM) Ryan: instead you decide on trying to PISS ME OFF to gain my friendship?_

_(3:12 PM) Shane: It worked. Ish. We’re kinda friends._

_(3:12 PM) Ryan: *fuckbuddies_

_(3:13 PM) Shane: Gotta start somewhere, don’t we?_

Ryan sighed as he surveyed the string of messages he and Shane sent in the past minutes.

_(3:14 PM) Ryan: i… cannot believe you_

_(3:14 PM) Shane: Do you still hate me?_

_(3:14 PM) Ryan: shut up_

_(3:14 PM) Ryan: i mean_

_(3:14 PM) Ryan: since now i know what you were rlly trying to do_

_(3:14 PM) Ryan: i don’t hate you. as much_

_(3:14 PM) Shane: That really warms my innards, Bergara._

Ryan exhaled, hard, through his mouth, and smiled ruefully. _Who would’ve thought, Shane trying and failing spectacularly at attempting to kindle a friendship with him_? His thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a few minutes, not knowing how to respond. He finally decided on gratitude.

_(3:18 PM) Ryan: thanks btw_

_(3:18 PM) Ryan: for yesterday night. and breakfast_

Ryan pressed the power button and watched the screen turn black, but it lit up a few seconds later with a message.

_(3:19 PM) Shane: :)_

He instinctively swiped at the notification, but set his phone down to avoid going to his texts and marking Shane’s message as “read.”What if Shane thought he was anxiously waiting for a reply?

With reluctance, he slipped it into his shorts’ pocket and got out of his car. He didn’t quite know why he was putting so much importance on something so trivial.

“Get a fucking grip, Bergara,” he muttered to himself. “I need a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't text and drive, kids
> 
> i crave validation so comments/kudos are appreciated (':
> 
> hmu on tumblr [@bergarass](https://bergarass.tumblr.com/) to send me writing prompts and to talk <3
> 
> Im lặng - (basically) Be quiet.
> 
> Đẹp trai - handsome // in this case, this phrase is used as a term of acknowledgment (i.e. like when people address someone as "Hey, beautiful")


	4. limerance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so gd sorry y'all it's been 3 months i know i'm a hoe for being so late
> 
> this is dedicated to my fave nina [@yaboybergara](https://yaboybergara.tumblr.com/); i stumbled upon her lovely words abt this fic and i just was so honored + humbled to read her compliments this entire chapter is dedicated to her and her undying patience thank you sm for giving me confidence in my writing ily
> 
> i couldn't wait to post this so it's a snippet of the chapter that i was working on; gna update later with the second part
> 
> ok without further ado, enjoy

“How’s Shane?” Adaline swiftly ducked from the swing headed her way, and easily dodged the jabs Ryan lined up right after it. 

“What’s it to you?” He huffed when she unleashes a barrage of punches, and quickly sidestepped to avoid her warpath.

“Just wanted to catch up with how your boyfriend is doing.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You mention him all the time though.” She flitted out of his way and parried as he advanced on her.

“You know, this is why I suggested we box with all our gear, so at least—“ He ducked to avoid her fist from connecting with his jaw. “You won’t be able to chatter with your mouthguard in.”

“What’s the fun in hitting gear, and gear alone?” She quipped, and, as if to emphasize her point, lashed out to hit him squarely in the sternum, knocking the breath out of his lungs. 

“Fuck you,” he groaned, and attacked with a flurry of jabs, Adaline guarding her torso with raised forearms, but he was able to get a few punches on her arms and one on the side of her head. 

“Watch your fucking language,” she snapped back, her smile of all teeth and terrorization, and the room was soon full of the sounds of pants and harsh breaths, and grunts whenever one of them landed a good hit. 

An hour later they both limped out of the boxing ring, Adaline flopping down to the floor as Ryan tiredly attempted to cool down and lower his heartbeat.

“Hey, get off the floor, wait a few minutes at least,” he wheezed, tottering over to pull her up, but she swatted at his hand. 

“Let me rest in peace,” she mumbled, arm hitting the matted floor with a _thwack_ as she let it fall.

“You can rest in peace when you’re cremated and well off in a hollowed out pink dildo or whatever you kids want to be done with your ashes nowadays. Get up.”

“Go to hell,” she retorted, but relented, and let herself be pulled up. He handed Adaline her water bottle, and they both gulped down icy cold water in relief.

“So,” she gasped, pouring some water on her hand to splash on her face. “You never answered my question.”

“You never quit, do you?” he groaned, and she patiently looked at him while dabbing at her face with the bottom of her tank top, waiting for him to inevitably answer. “He’s… he’s alright. We didn’t talk today.”

Adaline cocked her head to the side. “But…”

“But… I… had _likeafullonconversationwithhimviatextyesterday_ ,” Ryan said as quickly as possible, avoiding eye contact with Adaline, even though he could practically see her Cheshire-like grin from his periphery.

“Huh.”  
  
“He was apologizing for being a dick, and… he wanted to be _friends_ with me this whole time, Adaline,” he said incredulously. “There was an actual reason why he was acting so infuriating towards me.”

Adaline tipped her head back, letting out a full-bodied laugh. “Oh my god, this is why I don’t fuck with boys anymore, y’all are so fucking dumb. If I wanted to make friends with anyone my first instinct is to make them like me, not want to kill me.  So what’s next?”

“Huh?”

“What’re you gonna do next to make him yours?”

“He’s not ‘mine,’” Ryan scoffed. 

“Yet.”

“Well—“

“So you are thinking of bringing him off the market.”

Ryan grimaced. “You make to sound like he’s a piece of fish or something.” He squirmed under Adaline’s cool stare, and turned away.  “Okay, yes, I’m thinking of it. But I’m pretty sure he wants this to just be a friends-with-benefits thing.”

"You never know what'll happen if you don't try. Aren't you always quoting that dumbass sentiment: 'you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take?'"

"Yeah. And also the well-known inquiry:  _did I ask for your commentary_?"

Adaline snorted and flicked the remaining water on her fingers at him. "Watch that attitude, lover boy."

Ryan halfheartedly dodged the water. "I could say the same for you. Ow! That hurt!"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Get over it." She slowly dragged her feet out of the room, leaving Ryan with his smarting shoulder where she playfully slapped him, and with more about Shane on his mind than he cared to admit.

-∆-

“Wanna get dinner?” Shane leaned on Ryan’s desk, bolstering himself with his hands, as he loomed over Ryan’s computer. “We can walk to that Thai place around the corner.”

“Uh. I need to finish editing this first,” Ryan replied, eyes glued to his screen as he searched for mistakes in the audio of the current video he was working on. 

“We’re not due to release that until…” Shane looked upward, eyes unfocusing as he relied on the calendar in his head. “Oh. In three days.”

“Exactly.”

Shane frowned. “Well. We can always grab food another day.” He offered a small smile to Ryan, but it seemed half-hearted. “See you tomorrow.”

“W-wait, actually—” He slipped his headphones from his neck, and quickly exited out of his tabs, remembering to save his progress on his video. As his computer shut down, he turned to Shane. “I could use a bit of distraction from this.”

Shane smiled wanly. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Let’s go, I’m actually starved.”

Shane’s smile turned into something more genuine, reaching his eyes a bit more. “Okay. Let’s go.”

-∆-

The night ended with a first.

“Wanna go back to my place?” Shane murmured, and Ryan paused from pressing kisses onto his collarbone and neck. There was no one on the streets, fortunately, as they were necking right in front of the restaurant they just exited, but even if there was, Ryan couldn’t give less of a damn about being caught or stared at.

“… Really?”

“Yeah,” Shane grinned. “Didn’t you ever wonder where Bigfoot lived? Now you get to find out.”

Ryan started giggling, and pulled him down for a kiss. “I can see the headlines. 'Breaking news, local man finds lair of 8-foot-tall monster.'”

“Case of Bigfoot and his whereabouts? Solved.”

-∆-

It turned out that Shane lived in a quiet neighborhood with a lot of lush scenery. Ryan looked up at him, grinning.

“I bet you picked out this place because it feels like home, doesn’t it?”

“You read me like a book, Bergara.”

-∆-

Ryan couldn’t stop laughing when he stumbled through Shane’s front entrance, failing to catch his breath as Shane did his dumb Bigfoot call, goofily loping down the hallway like the cryptid himself.

He was still giggling when Shane pulled him into his bedroom and then on top of him, flicking on a lamp to bathe the entire room in a dim, warm light, golden tones casting themselves on the neat sheets on the bed, and the clutter on the desk in the otherwise neat room.

He straddled Shane, and leaned down to brush his lips against the other’s, dodging every attempt Shane made in order to kiss him. Shane huffed, and gripped Ryan’s hips to flip them over, arms bracketing each side of Ryan’s head, and swooped down to press a bruising kiss on his lips, groaning when Ryan opened his mouth ever so slightly and flicked his tongue against Shane’s bottom lip. 

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” Shane murmured, pulling back to look into Ryan’s eyes.

“I take full pleasure in knowing that I hold so much power in order to end your life,” Ryan said, grinning when Shane sighed exasperatedly.

“Ah—” Ryan’s gasp didn’t quite manage to leave his mouth when Shane carefully wrapped his hand around his neck, fingers slowly, but deliberately squeezing the sides. _Thank fuck he knows how to choke me correctly_ —

“I love it when you do that,” Ryan confessed, the lack of oxygen to blame for his sudden candor.

“Yeah, I know,” Shane replied, looking down at him, observing him. Fondness was too soft of a word to use to describe the look in his eyes. Ryan settled for satisfaction instead.

He lifted a hand to rest against Shane's thin chest, skating his fingers across his prominent collarbone, marveling at the handsomeness of his... fuck buddy? Friend?

"Shane." 

He looked at Ryan when he heard his name, eyes guileless and earnest. "Hm?" 

"I wanna... be on top this time."

Shane blinked at him. "Oh. Okay, uh, give me a moment to get ready-" 

"No, I mean- I want to ride you." He placed his hand on the smooth slope of Shane's shoulder. "Is that okay?"

Shane's face broke into a smile, eyes crinkling just a bit before he pulled away. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine with that."

He made a noise of surprise when Ryan firmly pushed him down onto the mattress. "Whoa." 

"This okay?" Ryan asked, fingers hovering over the buttons of Shane's button down shirt.

Shane locked eyes with him. "Always."

-∆-

He tried to go home. He really did. But there was something stopping him from extracting himself from the kinda comforting weight that was Shane and getting dressed to slip out the door.

Shane’s hand tightened its grip on Ryan’s hip, and he looped his arm around Ryan’s waist to pull him closer when Ryan started to move away.

“Stay,” he murmured, breath warm against Ryan’s nape. 

Sighing, Ryan slumped even further into the mattress, after hesitating for a moment. Why not? The bed was warm, as was Shane, and he didn’t have any priorities to attend to, really.

“Okay.”

Shane hummed sleepily in response and in a few moments, he lapsed back into his light slumber. Ryan settled, too, his back fully pressed against Shane’s warm front. He fell asleep quickly, and more easily than he thought he would in another person’s bed. 

It almost felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos keep me goin (':
> 
> hmu [@bergarass](https://bergarass.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	5. quandary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> has it really been two months? shit
> 
> again, this chapter is dedicated to nina, [@yaboybergara](https://yaboybergara.tumblr.com/), who always leaves the best, in-depth comments. she also made a superb edit of this fic for my birthday (which ;u; was so sweet of her): check it out [HERE](https://yaboybergara.tumblr.com/post/174136108502/all-my-favorite-fanfictions-cant-take-you)
> 
> enjoy

The first Monday of October marked their return to a place Ryan thought he didn’t have to encounter ever again. Shane suddenly waltzed to his desk while he was working and said, “Hey, Bergara, there’s something I need to show you.”

Ryan looked up from answering emails, raising his eyebrow at the crooked grin on Shane’s face. “What’s up?”

Shane beckoned for him to follow. “Just come with me.”

Ryan got up slowly, regarding Shane confusedly. “Okay…”

“We just need to take care of some unfinished business,” Shane explained as they walked out of the office space and into the hallway, Ryan hurrying after Shane, keeping up with his long strides. 

“What’s the hurry?” Ryan asked, looking up at Shane, his head in profile further accentuating his aquiline nose. “And what business?”

Shane stopped in his tracks, as did Ryan. He glanced at the door in front of them. 

“Wait,” Ryan said skeptically. “What are we doing at the clo— woah!” Shane opened the door and suddenly yanked him inside, slamming the door once they were both inside.

“Fuck— if you wanted to make out again, why didn’t you say so?” he asked, gasping when Shane pinned him against the door of the closet, a sense of déjà vu piercing his mind as Shane nuzzled the juncture of where his neck met his shoulder, playfully biting at his skin.

“I like keeping you on your toes,” Shane replied, and they weren’t able to talk for a few moments as Ryan parted his lips, relishing in the feeling of his tongue sliding against Shane’s.

He rocked up against him, their jeans unfortunate barriers, but the rough fabric provided some friction that Ryan was thankful for.

“I like this side of you,” Ryan said, and Shane huffed out a laugh, his warm breath tangible enough to feel over Ryan’s skin.

“I do, too.”

Their kissing became less hurried after that, the urgency of the situation dulled now that they’ve gotten over the thrill of reliving this memory. Shane mirrored Ryan in settling his hands on Ryan’s hips, thumbs rubbing circles over his hipbones.

They were startled by a dull thud on the door, breaking their kiss, sucking in needed breaths, wondering what the sound was when the door suddenly gave way behind Ryan’s back.

“Oh fuck—“ Ryan stumbled backwards when the door swung open, and he would’ve fallen on his ass if it weren’t for Shane’s hold on him. He regained his footing, and whirled around to face—

“Adam!”

“Hi,” he quietly greeted, eyes scanning Shane and Ryan, comprehension slowly dawning on his face. “…What brings you here? Again?” He added the last word after a small, yet telling pause.

“Uhhhhh.” _Shit._ Getting caught off guard kind of threw Ryan for a loop. Thankfully, Shane piped up.

“Just… grabbing some things for our vid. We’re still not done with it.” He poked his head into the closet, and returned with the same dresses Ryan had grabbed on a whim the last time. “Needed finishing touches you know?” 

Adam nodded sagely, but the furrow in his brow seemed more like he was trying to hold in a laugh instead of indicating his understanding. “Of course. You mind grabbing the aprons? I need to get them for Steven and Andrew.”

“Yeah sure, hold these for me—“ Shane ducked in again, and handed the aprons to Adam. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he glanced at his watch. “Oh shoot, I gotta go talk to TJ, he’s expecting me right now. Alright, see ya guys!”

And with that he breezily strolled away, leaving an open-mouthed Ryan and Adam behind him.

Adam turned to look at Ryan, who belatedly looked at the time on his phone. “Uh— I gotta— head this way.” He gestured toward the opposite direction and turned to hightail back to the office, but he didn’t make it far before Adam called him back.

“You forgot the dresses.” Adam held the flowy fabrics up, a faint, amused smile twitching at his lips.

Ryan took the dresses from him, sheepishly muttered a “thanks,” and hurried off back to his desk.

-∆-

_(10:56 AM) Ryan: FUCK YOU, YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THE VICINITY FOR ME TO YELL AT YOU_

_(10:56 AM) Ryan: WHERE ARE YOU, YOU COWARD_

_(10:56 AM) Ryan: I CAN SEE YOU LEAVING ME ON SEEN_

_(10:57 AM) Ryan: SHANE_

_(10:57 AM) Ryan: YOU ASSHAT_

_(10:57 AM) Ryan: YOU BETTER WATCH OUT IF I RUN INTO YOU AGAIN TODAY_

_(10:57 AM) Ryan: WHICH IS VERY LIKELY_

_(10:58 AM) Ryan: I’M GNA KICK YOUR_

_(10:58 AM) Ryan: PASTY_

_(10:58 AM) Ryan: SKINNY_

_(10:58 AM) Ryan: ASS_

-∆-

“You must admit, that was pretty funny,” Shane laughed, rubbing his arm where Ryan punched him in retaliation for leaving him to flounder with Adam. Ryan had been able to locate him after Shane sent him some cryptic messages about his whereabouts, which, Ryan responded to with vitriol and some choice swear words, naturally.

Turned out Shane was on his way to Chipotle to get some lunch, as was Ryan.

After they’d both gotten their burrito bowls and found some seats, Ryan shot him a mock-exasperated look. “So when am I supposed to laugh?”

“It’s a subtle kind of humor, Ry.” Shane sniffed, and winced when Ryan very pointedly kicked him in the shin under the table.

“You’re one for subtlety, Mr. Eight-Feet-Tall.”

“I have a _very_ unprepossessing presence, mind you.”

“Shut up and eat your chicken.”

-∆-

“How’s it going with the lover?” Adaline surprisingly was always able to hold a conversation during sparring sessions, and it didn’t seem to ever break her concentration. Ryan, however, had always had trouble with multitasking.

“Uh…” _Dodge her deadly right hook, feint at her face, hurry to take the offensive._ “Better.”

“That’s it?”

“I mean—“ Ryan skipped away, gauging the way Adaline was advancing. “We’re hanging out more. I’m spending more time at his place.”

“Progress!” Adaline easily deflected his lunge by sidestepping and continued her footwork. “Is it official yet?”

“What? No— we haven’t even talked about… being exclusive.”

“You should. Just to be on the same page.”

“I guess. You’re right. Shit!” He shielded his face from her flurry of punches, with his forearms up. 

“Don’t let him distract you, Bergie.”

“He’s _not_ distracting me.”

“Say whatever you need to in order to convince yourself, hun.”

-∆-

“Hey, Shane, you’re… not seeing anyone else right now… are you?”

“Are you crazy, I barely have time to bone _you_ , let alone other people.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but _fuck you_.”

-∆-

“What’s new?”

“I… I think we both know we’re on the same page.”

“Aces. Hey, you don’t suck as much as last time! Good job.”

“I _greatly_ appreciate your backhanded compliments. Ow, _fuck—“_

“Less sarcasm and more punching, lover boy.”

-∆-

It wasn’t like Ryan was drunk to begin with— he was perfectly fine nursing his third drink before Shane excused himself from the group and gave Ryan a meaningful glance, tilting his head towards the bar’s exit.

“Back to my place?” Ryan asked, and Shane nodded. Ryan finished his Old Manhattan, they both bid their farewells, and Shane called an Uber to take them back to Ryan’s apartment.

He wasn’t drunk— he wasn’t looking to _get_ drunk, but old habits died hard, really. When they got back to his place, Ryan made a beeline to his kitchen cabinets, pulling out a pair of whiskey glasses while Shane pulled up Netflix on the TV.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Uh—“ Ryan opened the freezer and took out an ice tray, popping a couple of cubes into each glass, and then placing it back inside, letting the door swing shut. “Honestly, anything’s fine.”

“‘Black Mirror’ it is.” He fiddled with the buttons on the remote, and then looked up at Ryan. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Fixing us drinks,” Ryan replied, already filling his glass with liquid amber.

“Uh… I’m not really in the mood for a drink. But thanks.”

“No problem. More for me then.” Ryan came over to set his glass on the table, and sat back on his couch. But Shane was still standing in front of the TV, remote in hand, frowning at the screen.

“We just came from the bar though…”

“I just had like two and a half cocktails, it’s okay,” Ryan said, already sipping his drink.

“And how many more are you planning on having tonight?” Shane’s tone was suspiciously light, like he was forcing himself to not feed any peevishness into his voice.

Ryan laughed. “Chill, dude, I’m not gonna get drunk. I’m not intending to do so.”

“Sure.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at Shane, who set down the remote on the coffee table and sat down heavily at the other end of the couch. “What was that?”

“What?”

“Why are you being so snarky all of a sudden?”

Shane huffed. “I’m not being snarky, I’m just… I think you might be overdoing it.”

Ryan reeled back, looking at Shane in disbelief. “Wha— dude, I said I was okay. Where is this coming from?”

“So are you gonna stop lying or what?”

“What the hell, I’m not—“

“We’re literally just gonna sit here and watch TV, you don’t need to be drunk for that.”

“But I’m not gonna get _drunk_ —“

“But you’re still _drinking_. And I don’t want to worry about you, or— deal with you being drunk.”

“Then don’t, I’m not stopping you, Shane.”

“I can’t stop worrying though.”

Shane lapsed back into silence, sullen, and it was a while before he spoke again. “I don’t want to— have to think about how you’re slowly killing yourself. You’re an alcoholic.”

“I’m not—“

“You _are_ , you just don’t want to admit it. Sure, you don’t drink every day, but when you do you get so fucking shitfaced it’s not even funny when— when you casually tell me that you black out, or when you can’t remember the last time you passed out from drinking.”

“I’m not gonna have this conversation right now. If you don’t want to see me get drunk you can leave.” He takes a sip from his whiskey glass, as if to emphasize his point. The sounds of the show filled the uncomfortable silence with its background chatter.

“C’mon… don’t be like that, baby,” Shane said, voice soft, smile sad and almost mocking.

“Don’t— don’t do that.”

Shane widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Do what, what’s wrong?”

“You don’t— you don’t get to call me that.”

“Oh yeah, no, I know, Ryan, because you told me, while you were pissed. Do you remember that, huh? Do you remember what we were discussing that one night that you drank too much, yet again?”

“You don’t fucking know anything. You don’t know why I do drink, so don’t make it sound like I’m some first-year who doesn’t know how to hold their liquor—“

“I’m not saying the problem is that you don’t know how to hold your liquor— the _problem_ is you, binge drinking whenever you get into a funk—“

“I’m not ‘in a funk’—“ Ryan made air quotes in the air, accentuating the last words with an eye roll. “And I can gauge for myself how much I can take, _sir_.”

Shane exhaled harshly through his nose, visibly peeved. “You don’t know what you said.”

“No, and it doesn’t matter, I was _drunk_ —“

“I’m sorry about Helen,” Shane interrupted, and he stopped talking, waiting for a response from Ryan, and when he was met with stunned silence, he continued. “That’s what you told me about that night. I remember what you said, but I don’t think you even recall what I told you.

“I know you’re still hurt over her. I get it. I… felt the same way with Sara. It just wasn’t working out anymore… it was hard for a while. I still feel a bit melancholy thinking back to our days.” He smiled sadly. “But I’m happy for her. She’s happy with Ella, and I wish them the best.”

He blinked several times, straightening up as he snapped out of his thoughts. “I can’t say that I felt the same way as you, because every relationship is different. But I understand your hurt. You deserve to be able to grieve and feel angry and heal.

“But the problem is you’re not healing. Hence why I’m so concerned about your drinking. Because it’s… _not_ normal, Ry. You don’t have to be drinking every day for it to be a _problem_ , you need to understand that. And pushing me and everyone else away when we try to address is only making it worse. I’m not going to leave you now just because you’re angry at me and you think I’d rather go home than see you wreck your liver, and your entire life, basically.

“I want to help you. But I can’t do that if you don’t accept the fact that you need it.”

He glanced at Ryan, who was still holding his glass, staring straight ahead, unmoving. He gently set it down on the coffee table, and leaned back into the sofa cushion.

“It was five years,” he quietly said. “I was seriously considering proposing.”

“Ah.”

“She broke it off because she… told me she didn’t feel in love anymore. But how do you go five years and realize that the end of it that it wasn’t giving you joy?” Ryan splayed his hands on his knees, until the tendons at his knuckles stood out, and then he relaxed, hands curled on his thighs.

“And that— that was the beginning of this year. Imagine starting off 2017 with a break-up.” He let out a harsh laugh. “One of my new year’s resolutions was to travel more with her. That’s what she complained about: I was always dedicating too much time to work, not enough time with her.” He looked morosely at Shane. “It’s probably why she decided to leave me in the first place.

“So I— I flipped. We had a screaming match and shit just happened. We were throwing things at each other and yelling and—” He put his head in his hands, groaning, probably reliving the very night that it happened.

“Hey,” Shane spoke up softly, “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”

“No. It’s okay. I think you need to know. I trust you.” He gave a halfhearted smile, and Shane quietly nodded. “She moved out the next day. And it was like a chunk of me just went missing. All her things were gone. She took the dogs. I came home from work and it was just… empty. Like she never existed.

“So I waited like a week for both of us to cool down, and I texted her. And she didn’t respond. She came up to me a bit after and said I was a coward for not being able to face her. And the sad part was I couldn’t argue back because she was right. I was too scared to confront that… whatever we had, it was dead.

“I tried to deny it for so long.” Ryan held his head in his hands, resignation weighing heavy on his slumped shoulders, a mortal Atlas holding the weight of a world that meant everything to him once upon a while ago. “Shane, I had to force myself to admit that I was the problem this time. 

“She wasn’t the one being selfish. I mean, it’s not a black and white issue where a sole person takes the blame. That’s never the case. I— I wasn’t an innocent party in all of this. But I realized it too late: I… was taking our relationship for granted.”

“How did you realize that?” Shane gently interjected.

“I mean, I was already neglecting her when I started a new project and dedicated more time to it.” Ryan felt a wave of ugly shame rising in his throat, growing harder and more difficult to ignore, as he thought back to his actions, what he thought was right at the time. “I made excuses for why I couldn’t be with her more. I told myself I needed space in order to be sure that it was perfect, you know? I didn’t want a repeat of the failed series I was behind in the past. Told myself that it was necessary to get my work be seen as profitable. It eventually overshadowed Helen and me.”

Ryan went quiet for a bit, collecting his thoughts. “She was tired of apologizing for what I couldn’t give.” He laughed lightly. “Tired of feeling bad for basically doing nothing wrong.”

“Have you ever apologized in return?”

Ryan’s guilty silence said enough for Shane to understand. 

“Well.” Shane’s mouth was partly open, pausing, parsing together the right words to say. “It was not your intention for it to happen, but unfortunately your relationship couldn’t… last.” With this statement Ryan turned away, the shame visible on his face for a second. “Do you ever think you can talk to her again?”

Ryan shrugged, weary defeat etched on his face. “I want to be able to… say what I need to say one day. So I can explain myself properly.”

“And apologize?”

“And… apologize.”

“So what makes you hesitate to do so?” Shane pivoted, shifting so that his whole right leg rested on the sofa cushion, to face Ryan. 

“I’m scared,” admitted Ryan, “I don’t know how she’s going to react. Which makes me so terrified of facing her one day to tell her this. I’m scared of her not wanting to hear anything I’m saying. Which, she has every right not to want to hear me out, but I _want_ her to know that I feel horrible for realizing too late that I was a shitty boyfriend. But I just feel blindsided because she didn’t give me an explanation herself, you know? It took weeks for us to confront it again.”

“You want me to tell you what you want to hear or what you need to?”

Ryan grimaced. “Just be straight with me, I don’t need sugarcoating.”

“Since when have I ever been straight with you— hey, don’t give me that look, that was an Ilnyckyj-level pun right there. But— you admit that you were being selfish and you wanted her to react and give more care to the relationship, because you were spending more time with work. 

“Maybe it was the faults of both parties. Refusal to communicate hurts a lot of people. But if you want me to be honest with you, I think you could’ve done more to save it.”

It was silent, and then Ryan made a small noise of acknowledgement, and Shane continued. “And at this point it’s less selfish to think of Helen and at least give her an apology. And an explanation. And she doesn’t necessarily have to forgive you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” The word barely escaped Ryan, a faint exhalation. He cleared his throat. “I want to make things right.”

“I… don’t know if things will be right. But it’s the right thing to do, given the circumstances.” Ryan nodded at the words, and sighed, slumping back into the couch. The TV was still on, still filling the space around them with murmurs.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Shane casually mirrored Ryan’s movement and relaxed into the couch. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan picked up his glass and walked over to the kitchen sink, dumping its contents down the drain and getting a drink of water instead. 

“What now?”

Shane gestured to the TV. “I’m okay with watching this until we pass out on the couch.”

Ryan let out a soft laugh. “Sounds good.” He sat down again, a bit closer than last time, and Shane restarted the episode. “Man, I’m exhausted.”

“Happy Friday, Bergara.”

“Happy Friday, indeed.”

In the morning, Ryan blearily opened his eyes, propping his head up slowly and wincing at the crick in his neck. He straightened up, aware of the warm line of contact at his side, and amusedly regarded a still asleep Shane leaning against him. 

Part of him wanted to wake Shane up gently, so they could get on with both of their days and enjoy the weekend. But at the last minute, he quickly slipped from the couch and suppressed a snort when Shane tipped over and face-planted into the sofa cushion, startling awake with an undignified jolt. 

“Really?” he slurred from his spot, and Ryan let out a giggle, stumbling his way to the bathroom before Shane could catch up to him and lock him out.

-∆-

“What’s new?” It was another day, with another training session with Adaline.

Instead of continuing their sparring, Ryan dropped his stance and stepped back, and a surprised Adaline did the same. She waited patiently as Ryan struggled to come up with an adequate response.

“I don’t know. I think I… like him more than I’ll admit. Unfortunate.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but Adaline let out an incredulous laugh and swatted him on the shoulder. She sobered up when she saw the seriousness etched on his face.

“Wait, really?” 

He nodded, and her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, you’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious,” he snapped, “You think I’d be joking about this?” He let out a heavy breath. “Goddammit, I’m falling for him, aren’t I?”

Adaline only pursed her lips in response, staying quiet for a bit before a little snort escapes from her, and the grin she was trying to hide spread across her face. “Can I say that I called this a really long time ago, but I didn’t wanna tell you because you would just deny it until the day you die?”

“You know me too well.” He started shucking off his gloves and throwing them onto the floor, to her bemusement. “Can we stop now? I’m feeling kinda off.”

He expected a smack in the head for cutting short their session, but instead, Adaline made a noise of agreement and let her gloves fall to the ground after loosening them.

“Only because I like you, Bergara,” she laughed, and raised her leg up on the ropes of the ring and swung up and to the other side. “Catch your breath, get some rest. You look beat.”

“That’s a sneaky way of saying that you think you won today, isn’t it,” grumbled Ryan, but he waved to her as she headed off to the showers, and leaned back against the ropes. 

His heart was still thrumming in his chest as he sucked in a long, deep breath, and it took him longer than normal to convince himself that his quickened heartbeat could only be attributed to his workout, and not because of Shane permeating his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos keep me goin (':
> 
> hmu [@bergarass](https://bergarass.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	6. pettifogging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what??? this fic is being updated and y'all didn't have to wait two gd months for an update?? is nina ok???
> 
> no but i had to get this out asap bc i had it finished and just needed to finetune a bit
> 
> this one is for nina, [@yaboybergara](https://yaboybergara.tumblr.com/), and lee, [@ghoulboi](https://ghoulboi.tumblr.com/)
> 
> enjoy

A week later, Ryan made up his mind.

Well, not quite.

“I’m gonna tell him.”

Adaline looked at him for a few seconds, water bottle poised in front of her lips as she was about to drink before Ryan spoke up.

He deflated momentarily. “No. No, I can’t tell him.”

She continued to regard him in amused silence.

He straightened back up. “No, fuck, I _have_ to tell him.”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything, honey.”

He glared at a satisfied-looking Adaline. “Don’t get semantic with me— you know what I mean.”

“Woman up. You gotta do what you gotta do. And I know you’re gonna do the right thing.” She finally took a drink, eyes falling shut as she tipped back her head, gulping down cold water, and sighing loudly, smacking her lips afterwards. “So the next question would be… when?”

He fell quiet, frowning. “When I get back to work. Tomorrow. The thirteenth.”

Adaline cracked a smile. “October, Friday the thirteenth. You sure you’re not too superstitious to actually carry out your plan?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to die or anything, it’ll be fine.”

Adaline shrugged, and ambled off, wiggling her fingers at him. “A’ight then. Good luck, lover boy. Let me know how it goes.”

-∆-

Ryan felt like a wreck by the time he got to work, antsy with anticipation as he jogged up the stairs to the third floor, nixing the elevator, as he couldn’t stand in such a small space with all the frantic energy he was harboring.

_Get a fucking grip, Bergara_.

It felt like an appropriate time to just casually say something about their situation to Shane, in a way that would be neutral enough to be seen as casual and friendly, but hinting enough that Shane would be able to know what he’s getting at. 

“‘Hey, Shane, I really appreciate having you as someone I trust, and uh, I’m glad to have this relationship with you. Thanks for being my friend, and… and I’m up for anything else if you are,’” he recited softly, as he passed the second-floor door in the stairwell.

_Sounds good enough, and it leaves room for interpretation_ , he thought to himself. _I’ll tell him when it’s time to head home._

He ignored the niggling thought hovering over the others, the one that knew why he was going to wait. _If you do it later, you won’t have to endure the entire day feeling like shit if he ices you out_.

-∆-

_(11:32 AM) Ryan: fuck i’m shaking_

_(11:50 AM) Adaline: ?_

_(11:50 AM) Ryan: oh god_

_(11:50 AM) Adaline: bby u will be fine_

_(11:50 AM) Adaline: promise_

_(11:50 AM) Ryan: what if it’s not fine_

_(11:50 AM) Ryan: i can’t do this_

_(11:51 AM) Adaline: shut up u ho stop being so melodramatic_

_(11:51 AM) Adaline: drink some MELK; go distract urself for now_

_(11:51 AM) Adaline: and don’t do anything stupid to fuck it up_

_(11:51 AM) Ryan: you’re an asshole, you know that?_

_(11:52 AM) Adaline: (((^:_

-∆-

Six o’clock. It was time.

Ryan exited the room where he was helping film a video with some colleagues and braced himself as he headed upstairs to where his office space was. _C’mon, it’ll be fine, just tell him and be casual about it and it. Will. Be. Fine. Just— calm down._

He rounded the corner, and started down the hall, only to stop in his tracks when he peered inside the giant glass office space for HR, seeing a sight that made his heart stutter in his chest, constricting with a feeling he could only describe as _pain_.

Shane touching Helen.

Helen throwing back her head, laughing at something Shane said.

Shane’s eyes crinkling at Helen, his cheeks lifting with a genuine smile, and Ryan felt his stomach twist, an ugly, gnawing emotion settling in the pit of it. His heart plummeted when Shane gestured at a stray strand of hair, which Helen noticed and tucked behind her ear; he leaned down to say something, as Helen was way shorter than him, while Helen shoved at his shoulder, laughing again and responding to whatever he said.

Shane finally caught his eye, bright smile still on his face, and nodded at Ryan through the glass screen.

He waved at a departing Helen as he made his way out of the room, heading in Ryan’s direction. “Hey, Ry.”

“We need to talk.” He spun around, resisting the urge to look back to see if Shane was following him. The footsteps behind him kept him from checking. 

“Okay; I need to head back in about ten, though. What’s up?” Shane said, behind him.

He ignored the question, and continued his brisk walk to the unoccupied Conference Room E on the floor.

When they arrived at the room, Ryan didn’t even bother to shut the door behind him before he whirled to face Shane.

“What kind of game are you trying to play?”

Shane regarded him, eyes wide. “What?”

“Don’t _what_ me, Madej, what the hell were you doing with Helen?”

His brows furrowed, as he looked at Ryan confusedly. “I…. We were… talking? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know, most definitely? I just love how— how maybe all of this—“ He gestured between them, “Was a way to fuck with me, right? Oh, let’s play mind games with Ryan, that’ll be fun; let’s pry every fucking thing that’s bothering him from his hands and then find a way to make it a slap in his face one day; oh, let’s get with his ex because _that_ will surely fuck him up even more—”

“Wait, wait, you think I’m trying to _get_ with Helen?” Shane interrupted, brow furrowed in shock. “We were _discussing_ something for an upcoming project, and catching up with each other, oh my god—”

“Uh huh, discussing definitely demands you to get all touchy-feely with her—”

“Okay, first of all, there is nothing wrong with people of the opposite sex having contact, you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend. And you guys aren’t even _together_ anymore—”

“ _Yeah_ , I fucking know that, I’m _aware_ that she and I are through, which is why it’s kinda triggering when I see you, out of all people, sidling up to her. And that’s just…” He struggled to come up with a word that would accurately encapsulate how he felt, and trailed off. “God, you know what, just forget about it.”

Shane barked out a laugh, mirthless. “Wait, wait, no, I’m not forgetting about this— you need to let her go. You’re— formulating what you want out of ‘facts’ that you assert to yourself are true… and they’re _not_. It’s exasperating as hell to listen to you decide on absolutes: ‘you’re fucking her, you’re thinking so-and-so’— No, I’m not! You don’t know what I’m thinking, Ryan, and I’d appreciate it if you stop assuming what I’m thinking, or what you think I’m doing.”

Ryan inhaled through his nose, and breathed out frustratedly. “Okay. Okay, sure I’m wrong about everything I saw, I get it, I get what you’re—”

“See, you’re doing it _right now_ , stop the defensive attitude—” 

“What do you want from me, _Shane_ , I’m sorry that I’m paranoid and defensive about fucking everything, and now you _don’t_ want me to acknowledge it—”

“Just calm down—”

“No!” Ryan exclaimed, and he began to feel that too-warm feeling creeping up his chest and neck and blooming on his cheeks, the one that he got whenever he got worked up. “I’m not going to calm down. Don’t tell me what to do. Yeah, I know I have no idea what you’re thinking or feeling, so go ahead. Tell me. What’s going on? What am I misinterpreting?”

They glared at each other in silence, but there was something deeper than just anger in Shane’s eyes. He looked… lost. Caught in headlights. And just as soon as it appeared it flickered out, and he took in a shuddering breath to speak again.

“Fine. Here it is. Hopefully you have the sense to not interrupt me when I’m talking.” Ryan, on instinct, opened his mouth again to retort but snapped it shut, chastised. “This is the truth. I’m not interested in Helen. Helen is not interested in me. She’s actually pursuing another relationship with someone else, and that was none of your business, but now you know. You’re welcome.”

Ryan blinked in surprise, but for some reason, instead of feeling hurt, a tinge of relief settled over him, the vice around his heart easing just a bit. “Oh.”

Shane ignored him in favor of continuing. “Let me reiterate that when people of the opposite sex have close contact, it doesn’t necessarily mean that we’re banging. Helen and I are friends, but we’re just that. We have different feelings for different people.” He hesitated for a second, and it looked like he was going to say something else, but suddenly he turned away. “There. That’s it.”

Ryan frowned. “…No. You’re lying. There’s something else you were going to say.”

“No there isn’t.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Shane, your ears are turning red.”

“You’re crazy, I’m going to go now.”

“What the hell, you can’t do that to me— See, this is why I’m paranoid all of the time, because Ifeel like people around me are always hiding something. Helen hid her true feelings for _a year_ before she could tell me that she wasn’t in love with me anymore, _my friends_ hide what they’re thinking because they’re afraid I’m going to break like I’m some fragile, porcelain figure, and now _you_ are doing the same thing, god _dammit_ , Shane, why can’t you ever tell me the truth—”

“I want you.” Ryan blinked, startled at the frank statement, Shane’s eyes solemn with his declaration. 

“What?”

“I. Want. You,” Shane slowly repeated, eyes locked in on Ryan. “I’ve… wanted you for a while, and I’ve finally come to terms with how I feel about you. And it’s maddening, because you were the bane of my existence, and then I wanted to just… know you more and be friends, and now…” His brow furrowed. “I— I don’t know. I’m so… drawn to you. And for such a long time I didn’t want to say anything because I thought… that you just thought I was a good fuck, and nothing else. But I wanted something more, because—“ 

He frustratedly ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up wildly, and Ryan resisted the urge to reach up, on his tiptoes, to push it back.

“No matter what happened in the past, I don’t… think it’s changed my mind from the beginning that you’re a kinetic, infuriating, gorgeous fucking work of art, and it— breaks me whenever we’re together because I have you all to myself, but I know that when the night is over, it’s back to pretending that I don’t want more of it.” Shane smiled wanly, throwing up his hands, and they fell limply back to his sides. “It wasn’t just the sex, Ryan, it was talking with you, getting to know more about you, finally being closer to you. 

“And I… I keep asking myself why I want you, among all these questions I don’t have the answers to. I know sometimes I act like I have all of them. But I know I don’t. And I don’t need answers. All I need is you.”

There was a deafening silence after he spoke, and Ryan almost stopped breathing, eyes widening as he regarded Shane in front of him, with his scruffy jaw set with determination, hands clenched tight at his sides, brown eyes burning into Ryan’s. And Ryan did the only thing that he had the courage to do.

He turned around and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry


	7. elucidating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe it? one year later, and this journey has almost come to an end. i published this work because a spark of "what if?" spurred me to write abt the potential dynamics of two people, and the responses have been overwhelming. 
> 
> thank you for reading, thank you for leaving kudos and comments and bookmarking and sending me check-up asks and giving me support to keep writing my first long narrative. i can't tell you how many smiles i've cracked or how much i've laughed reading what you guys write to me. i appreciate your patience, and your understanding of my wack ass upload dates; you readers make my day. here's to many more stories.
> 
> this chapter's for all of you. enjoy.

“You’re a goddamn idiot.”

Ryan had the sense to keep his mouth shut this time around, and wearily rubbed at his forearm where multiple objects collided with it, all from the impeccable aim of Adaline. At his feet were some toys that belonged to Adaline’s cat, the current book she was reading (a hardback copy of Richard Dawkins’ _The Selfish Gene_ ), and one of her running shoes that managed to clip him on the side of his head even as he tried to dodge from its trajectory.

“Did you even—“ Adaline stopped midway into her sentence, right hand splayed outward towards him— “ _think_ of what you were doing as you just _ran off_ all of a sudden? Like a coward?”

“I wasn’t being a c—“ Ryan started indignantly, but he ducked to narrowly avoid Adaline’s other shoe as she launched it straight at his face. “Hey!”

“Why did you run away, then, _huh_?” She yelled, and Ryan resignedly slumped back into Adaline’s couch. “Walk me through what you were thinking, which definitely wasn’t along the lines of, ‘I’m going to do something for the benefit of the both of us, _and_ it’s probably not going to shatter Shane’s heart into forty-three thousand pieces.”

“I _panicked_ , I didn’t know what else to do,” Ryan said, voice rising a few decibels before catching the look of utter disbelief and disdain on Adaline’s face. He looked away as he muttered, “I just didn’t… think… I didn’t want to get hurt again.”

Adaline reeled back, slightly shaking her head in bewilderment. “Didn’t it occur to you that he doesn’t want to either? Probably? Most definitely? He had the goddamn _cojones_ to tell you how he felt about you and the best you could do was absolutely _nothing_. You couldn’t… fucking acknowledge it. You _still_ don’t want to acknowledge it.”

“So what if I did?” Ryan interjected exasperatedly. “He likes me. I like him. We continue what’s going on between us, I fall in way too deep again, because I love hard, and I _fall harder_ , and in five years… what, he’s gonna leave me for the same exact reason that Helen did. And we’re back at square one. And I’m never going to find anyone who will love me the same way I do for them.” His voice caught on the last word and warbled a bit, and he cleared his throat, turning away again, adamantly avoiding looking in Adaline’s general direction.

It was quiet for a while, but Ryan preferred it that way, when he could zone in on the silence to focus on his breathing and all the jagged, frantic thoughts in his head. He was thinking of anything and everything, mind grasping onto the most inconsequential subjects and situations to try to distract him from the problem at hand but no matter how hard he tried to push it away, there it loomed in his head, inescapable.

“So—“ Adaline started but she cut herself off immediately, and let the silence stretch on a little bit longer, the thin elasticity of it pulling tight between the two of them, and Ryan almost flinched when she started speaking again.

“You need to talk to him. I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care if you need to wait another week to collect the thoughts and words that you already _know_ to tell him. But before you do that, you need to have whatever conversation you need to start with Helen first.”

“Shane told me to apologize to her.” He was barely audible, and it could be possible that Adaline just didn’t hear him, or she was actively ignoring him to continue with her thoughts.

“It seems that… she pervades a lot of what you feel when it comes to romantic attraction to anyone else,” she said, staring directly at Ryan, and he struggled to maintain that gaze.

“You gonna woman up and listen to what I say, and do it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Ryan testily muttered, and Adaline scoffed.

“‘Course you do. You have the choice of facing the mess you got into, or you can fuck off like you always do and hope that it turns out for the better. And if the latter hasn’t been working out for you, _maybe_ it’s time to switch gears.”

She turned away and trudged into the hallway, her voice lingering in the living room even when she went out of sight. “Are you ever going to do what’s right for everyone, Ryan?”

-∆-

“Well, are you?”

And now Helen was in front of him, fingernails clicking on the coffee mug in front of her, her hands cupping the sides for warmth. She had the same tilt to her shoulder when she sat forward in her seat, a little thing he noticed on their third or fourth date, when they were both still a little cautious of and intrigued by each other. He remembered how graceful the curve of her shoulder was, with her cashmere sweater slipping off of it as she recounted some story about her day, which he was only half-listening to because, quite frankly, he was too mesmerized by her to focus on what she was saying.

And now, thinking back to that, and to all the times that she’s been in front of him like that-- open, ethereal, vibrant-- it made Ryan’s heart twinge, just a bit.

“I-- hm?”

“Are you going to let me know whatever you’ve been hiding from me for the past half hour?” She took a sip of her mocha and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, eyes flickering down to make sure she didn’t smudge too much of her lipstick on it.

“Oh, er—“ He paused, biting back on the stilted words that felt awkward when he merely _thought_ about them. “I… just wanted to catch up with you for a bit.”

“I understand, but… c’mon, let’s not waste your time any more than we should, yeah?” Helen laughed lightly, but it was short, and the sudden silence after it told Ryan a lot more than what Helen was verbalizing.

“I really don’t mind, but uh, it’s been a while, you know?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?” Helen arched an eyebrow at him. “You bothered?”

“Are you going to act like this when I’m trying to tell you something important?”

“Could’ve done it thirty minutes before if it was _that_ important.”

And just like that, Ryan was squirming in his seat, already a little warm from embarrassment and a little bit of shame. Funny how Helen could always have that effect on him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I'm gonna-- get it out now.

“This is long overdue, but I needed to tell you. And I hate that it took until now for me to finally be able to say it. But I’m sorry. I’m… sorry for all the hurt that I caused when I was being selfish and self-centered, and I couldn’t get out of my own head to care for other people, especially you. And it was mostly my fault--"

"Mostly?"

"Okay-- you can't just pin it all on me, you know--"

"So was this supposed to be an apology or are you going to try to defend yourself like you do every time we do this?"

Ryan clenched his jaw, and fell silent, leaning heavily back in his chair. "You gonna let me talk?"

Helen shrugged. "Only if you start being accountable. Which is obviously something you still need to work on."

She didn't say anything after that, and Ryan let the silence drag on for a couple of heartbeats before sighing resignedly. "You wanna talk now?"

She shrugged again, with that maddening faux-nonchalance. "Sure, if you let me."

"I  _am_. Can you stop being difficult and say what you want, then?"

Helen sipped her drink, set it down, dabbed at her mouth. 

Folded her hands in front of her.

"I think--" Stopped mid-sentence, and took a breath, then started again. "I never got to tell you how much I gave to you, only to have everything slip away. I never got to.... show you what you did to me."

She took another deep breath, and exhaled. "You never said anything, Ryan. You didn't hit me up and text me, you didn't make any effort to come back. So I think I did the right thing in not trying to save it, because it was dead from the moment you stopped trying, wasn't it? What did you want me to do?"

"I... wanted you back."

"But you never attempted to _fix_ that."

"I was  _scared_ , Helen. And it was like you were already gone. If you wanted to stay, why didn't you?"

Helen shook her head disbelievingly, letting out an incredulous laugh. "Did it ever occur to you that I wanted you to put in the effort to repair our relationship? That the reason why I left was for you to try to save it?"

Ryan stared at her. "You wanted that?"

"I wanted everything with you." And there it was, the slight brimming in her eyes, the reddening of her cheeks and nose. Helen blinked once, and two twin trails of tears streaked her face. She shook her head slightly as if she could shake them off, and ended up covering her face with a crumpled-up napkin as she dried her tears. "I wanted more years with you, and more time, and more memories and love and trust. But you didn't want to put in _any_ time for me, no matter what. Was what we had not good enough?"

"It was--"

"It was never what you needed, or wanted, or whatever. You were always looking for something else, you prioritized literally everything over me." Ryan had to look away as she sniffled and blew her nose into the napkin, shame seeping into him as her words hit him, blow by blow. 

“I was the best thing to happen to you, and you didn’t deserve me, Ryan. You really didn’t.” Helen's voice barely caught on to the last word as she plucked a clean napkin off of the table to wipe her face, the slightest tremor running through her hands.

Ryan nodded numbly at that. _Yeah, I didn’t._

"I'm-- I'm sorry."

Helen sighed shakily, still sniffling, but the tears had stopped, and she recomposed herself, features melting into something calmer. 

"I didn't know."

She laughed wetly. "No. But now you do. And I can't tell you everything. Not now. But that's all I can tell you for now. There's so much _more_ that you don't know. But you're not here for that. Just tell me what's on your mind." She added the last part after seeing the hesitation in his face. "We can talk about us another time; what's eating you now?"

"You sure?"

"If you ask me again I'm going to stand up and walk away and never talk to you again." Her face was schooled into a blank expression, but a rueful smile was twitching on her lips.

"Harsh," Ryan muttered, but he braced himself, and settled in to tell Helen everything that happened since August until the fateful Friday the 13th when everything went wrong.

She kept mostly quiet during his rant session, interjecting with a few  _hmm_ 's and  _huh_ 's, but she mostly reacted to him via facial expressions-- a raised eyebrow, small smiles, pursed lips, slight frowns.

"And then I... I, uh, I walked away."

Helen regarded him silently for the longest time, until he began to shrink under her stare, and then she spoke up. "You're an idiot, Ryan."

"So I've been told." 

“Are you going to talk to him soon? You shouldn’t let this drag on for longer than it should.”

Ryan sighed exasperatedly. “He probably doesn’t want to even interact with me. I... wanted to talk to you to get another perspective, because I really have no idea what I'm gonna do."

Helen picked up her mug and drained the last of her mocha, tongue licking at the extra cocoa-y sludge on her mouth, and hummed thoughtfully. "You really like him?"

Ryan swallowed, and nodded jerkily. "I do."

"You want him in your life for longer?"

Ryan surprised himself with how much conviction he nodded with. "Yes."

"So are you gonna... repeat the same mistake that you did with me?"

Ryan locked eyes with Helen, but there was no malice that he saw in her eyes, just... earnestness and just a bit of sorrow. "I don't want to. I don't want to hurt him like I did with you."

"A little too late for that. But you still can redeem yourself."

Ryan steepled his hands together, and then splayed them out, mirroring them, focusing on the points of pressure at his fingertips. "What if he doesn't-- if he doesn't want me anymore?"

Helen gently put her hands over his and grasped him comfortingly. "If you know that he feels the same way for you, he'll be willing to listen."

"But I--"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah, but I--"

"Do you?"

Ryan sighed. "Yes. I do."

Helen squeezed his hands in reassurance. "Then are you going to get him back?"

"I... I'll try."

"No trying. Just doing."

"Since when did you become Yoda all of a sudden?" 

Helen rolled her eyes dramatically at him. "You're too much." She shoved his hands away goodnaturedly and sat back in her cushioned seat. "Don't let go, Ryan. You lose everything once you let go."

He shook his head, letting out a small laugh. "Not gonna let go. I'm gonna hold on as much as I can. I'm gonna do better."

And there was that small, pleased smile that he adored so much on her face.

"That's my Ryan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> strap in, folks


End file.
